


Move Your Body

by IncessantOblivion



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Future, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Oikawa Tooru, Dirty Dancing, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Humor, M/M, Minor Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Minor Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, Rimming, Sexual Humor, Slow Burn, Smut, Top Iwaizumi Hajime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-06-03 22:37:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 28,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6629809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IncessantOblivion/pseuds/IncessantOblivion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Iwaizumi comes out and Oikawa has a great idea and subsequently questions his own sexuality with surprising results...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Night Of

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LittleAlabaster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleAlabaster/gifts).



> This is for LittleAlabaster because if we fail to hand in our joint assignment on time next week because I've been too busy writing this...at least you have this? Or something. I'm sorry. Well, not really but I figured I should say it anyway.
> 
> You can blame this song - ["Move Your Body", Sia](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rBB8wbLPjSk) \- for my irresponsibility. I heard it and then I pictured things and then THIS happened. Completely out of my control, you see.

“Are we really doing this, Trashykawa?” Iwaizumi sighed.

“Why shouldn’t we, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa asked innocently.

“Maybe because it’s a terrible idea,” Iwaizumi grumbled.

“That’s not what you said last night,” Oikawa reminded him.

“I was drunk last night. You can’t hold me to that,” Iwaizumi growled.

“So I should forget that you said you’re gay?” Oikawa questioned with deceptive lightness.

Iwaizumi looked away. “No,” he mumbled. “Why do you think I got drunk in the first place?”

Oikawa grinned in triumph. “Then we’re really doing this, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi groaned. “It’s great that you’re being so supportive and all, but this is just unnecessary.”

Oikawa laughed and Iwaizumi glared at him. “What? It’s just a gay club.”

“And what the hell are _you_ going to do in a gay club?” Iwaizumi shot back grumpily as they shuffled forward in the line for the club, the faint thumping of base audible from below them.

Oikawa held his fingers up in a victory sign. “Why, I’ll be busy fending off all the unwanted male attention while you scowl unattractively in the background because even though _you’re_ the gay one _I’m_ getting hit on more.” He finished off by cheekily sticking his tongue out the side of his mouth.

Iwaizumi scowled at him. “All you have to do is strike that ridiculous pose and you’ll find yourself deserted in no time.”

“Mean, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa pouted. Iwaizumi simply rolled his eyes in response and stuck his hands in the pockets of his black zip-up hoodie.

He was trying to come off as surly, but Oikawa knew awkwardness when he saw it. Especially in Iwaizumi, who he knew better than he knew himself. Or at least he’d thought that was the case. He found he was now re-examining their whole relationship after Iwaizumi had drunkenly confessed he was gay when he and Oikawa had gone out for drinks the previous night.

Sure, they were well into their first year of university. Different universities. But they were still in the same city – albeit at opposite ends, but still! A 45-minute train ride wasn’t an insurmountable obstacle. Classes were, though. Course work was, though. Volleyball practice was, though. And apparently university volleyball came with a heavy side dose of socialisation outside practice that high school had never really had. Perhaps because in Miyagi there wasn’t anything remotely close to the amount of stuff a group of healthy, young, athletic males could get up on the weekends as in Tokyo.

So weekly weekend visits had turned into monthly ones. Sure, they still Skyped a few times a week and mailed, but those conversations had been superficial, mostly centred on classes and tests and volleyball. Lots of volleyball. At first they’d attempted to tell each other about their new teammates, but Oikawa always squirmed uncomfortably whenever Iwaizumi would talk about his new setter. Sure, he always said the guy wasn’t anything close to Oikawa’s level, couldn’t toss to him the way Oikawa could, but just the very idea that Iwaizumi had someone else to toss to him on the regular wasn’t a thought that sat well with him. At all.

He’d surprised himself with his level of possessiveness over it, especially since Iwaizumi didn’t seem to care that Oikawa had a brilliant, though temperamental, new ace in Bokuto Koutarou. So while Iwaizumi was always up for listening to stories about Bokuto’s latest stunt and Oikawa’s latest trip to Fukurodani to beg advice from his former setter, Oikawa found he was progressively less and less inclined to tell them. Because every second of Iwaizumi’s indifference was like a knife to the gut, and not only did Oikawa not enjoy the feeling, he also didn’t want to examine it too closely.

Their physical distance from each other had made Oikawa realise how much they’d depended on automatic proximity. There had never been any need before to catch each other up on their separate lives, because their lives had never been separate. Not since Oikawa had first been able to form coherent memories. And because they knew each other so well by default, no effort was required. Sure, Iwaizumi would argue that he’d never classify a close relationship with Oikawa as ‘effortless’, but Oikawa knew better. He knew Iwaizumi had taken care of him without a second thought, his every action for Oikawa’s sake more a reflex than a conscious decision.

But now that conscious decision was required – on both their parts – Oikawa found they were both terrible at it. Iwaizumi was the type to just leave things he didn’t know how to deal with, so Oikawa couldn’t rely on him to pick up and tighten the slack in the bond between them. It was up to him to make sure the most important non-familial relationship in his life continued to exist at the same level it always had. He refused to even consider the possibility that Iwaizumi didn’t care anymore.

So it had been more than a surprise when Iwaizumi had told Oikawa he was gay, had been living 'out' for the past six months. Suddenly Iwaizumi’s increasing reticence about his personal life made sense. Suddenly the rapidly tapering-off visits made sense.

Sure, Oikawa knew why Iwaizumi hadn’t told him for so long, had felt the need to get drunk to do so. He may not know Iwaizumi as much as he thought he did, but he still knew at least that much, that Iwaizumi had been afraid he’d lose Oikawa’s friendship over it, over something that shouldn’t matter to anyone at all – and matter to Oikawa the very least.

The only thing that mattered to Oikawa was how hard it must have been for Iwaizumi to come to terms with a sexuality that wasn’t widely accepted by society. That he had likely gone through the discovery process mostly isolated, too afraid of being ostracised to tell anyone about his confusion. Not even Oikawa.

What mattered to Oikawa was that Iwaizumi thought he was even capable of rejecting him, especially over something that was only a facet of who Iwaizumi was, something that didn’t affect the core of who Iwaizumi was as a person.

So he, of course, felt the need to prove that he was 100% on board with gay Iwaizumi. He needed support? Oikawa would be his biggest supporter, the metaphorical head cheerleader of his supporters, pompoms and all. He’d be making up the cheers. He’d be damn well leading them, too.

A natural next step was to understand the LGBTQIA community, because Oikawa hadn’t had any involvement with it at all in his personal life. Though he did have his suspicions about the nature of Bokuto and Akaashi’s relationship. Surely it was far too dependent to be considered a mere friendship, and Bokuto constantly bemoaned how far away Akaashi was and how little they were able to see each other and constantly bragged about how good he was at volleyball and…

And that was sounding uncomfortably familiar, so Oikawa quickly moved his train of thought along.

Visiting a gay club seemed like the natural course of action to take in order to immerse himself in the gay community. Of course the only more immersive thing to do was have sex with a man but the very thought of doing such a thing with Iwaizumi had caused weird hot flushes to break out all over his body, so he’d decided that probably wasn’t going to happen. He had, however – out of the goodness of his heart – offered to let Iwaizumi kiss him. 

Iwaizumi had glared at him – still so potent, despite his drunken state – and asked, “Who would _ever_ want to do that?”

Oikawa, extremely confused, had answered sincerely, “Who wouldn’t?”

Iwaizumi had scoffed messily into his cup of sake. “Anyone who actually knows you.”

Oikawa smiled sweetly. “You’re the only one who truly knows me, Iwa-chan.”

“Exactly.”

“Mean!”

Iwaizumi had ignored his protests – as usual – and frowned distractedly. “Besides, just because I like men doesn’t mean I like all of them.”

Oikawa had pouted, somewhat offended at the implication that Iwaizumi dared not find him attractive. “I know that. I’m not an idiot. I just figured I’d be the exception.”

Because not being the exception was excusable when he’d thought Iwaizumi was straight, but now that the possibility existed it just seemed wrong that Iwaizumi didn’t find him attractive. He’d seen pictures of Iwaizumi’s volleyball friends on Instagram – he was definitely prettier than all of them.

Iwaizumi had snorted at that. “Why would you think that?”

Oikawa had smiled innocently in a way he knew always pissed Iwaizumi off. “Because it’s usually the case. Especially with you.”

Sure enough, the vein on Iwaizumi’s temple had started visibly pounding. “Why do I even put up with you?”

Oikawa had used his trusty victory sign. “Because I’m super great eye candy.”

Iwaizumi had glared again but the corner of his mouth had twitched up into a hint of a smile. “No, because I can always make myself feel better by thinking ‘At least I wasn’t born like _that’_.”

Oikawa had laughed openly. “Well, you’re not wrong. You were born gay, I wasn’t.”

Iwaizumi’s lips had lifted further. “Yet it’s you who looks and acts more stereotypically gay. Go figure.”

Oikawa had pouted good-naturedly. “Well then it’s no wonder I didn’t figure it out.”

Iwaizumi had raised an eyebrow at him. “Did you really not suspect anything at all? I mean, I never had any girlfriends in high school. Nor did I ever show any inclination to get one.”

Oikawa had just shrugged. “I just figured that either no one liked you…”

Iwaizumi scowled. “You know that’s not true. I was confessed to plenty of times. Maybe not as much as _you_ , but a normal amount for any _normal_ person.”

Oikawa sighed loudly. “At yet, you turned them all down, stating volleyball took up too much of your time. Which was a blatant lie, because you always found plenty of time to spend with _me_.” Oikawa had grinned triumphantly when Iwaizumi’s cheeks had flushed red.

“Only because you’re completely useless on your own,” Iwaizumi had grumbled and looked away.

Oikawa had laughed at his embarrassment and continued on in a teasing tone. “So I just figured you didn’t really have any…you know, _urges_.”

At this Iwaizumi had abruptly laughed out loud, startling Oikawa into blank shock. It was rare to see Iwaizumi laugh so openly. He was usually a moody drunk.

“ _Definitely_ not the case,” he had said with a knowing grin at Oikawa, a grin so blatantly sexual that Oikawa had felt the air close in around him, suffocating him with its heat. He hadn’t known Iwaizumi was even capable of looking like that.

Then, of course, his mind had been assaulted by images of Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi kissing, the wetness of his tongue tracing down a faceless man’s neck, over his nipple. And Oikawa had been filled with a strange but urgent curiosity – he’d wanted to see that side of Iwaizumi, the one he’d never encountered before. Oikawa wanted to know everything there was to know about the man he’d always considered an integral part of his existence. And the only way he’d thought of to do that was go to a gay club with Iwaizumi and watch him in action.

He’d suggested the club to Iwaizumi, who’d laughed and said “yeah, sure”, obviously thinking Oikawa had been joking. Yet Oikawa had showed up on his doorstep that very evening, only 1 hour ago, ready to go clubbing. He’d eventually managed to wrangle Iwaizumi out the door despite his flurry of protests and there they were, standing in line in the cool night air, Iwaizumi scowling at the pavement below him as though it had murdered his entire family.

Oikawa thought about resuming conversation, but they finally reached the front of the line at that very moment. After the perfunctory (fake) ID checks and payment, they moved along to the lockers for their jackets. Iwaizumi took his phone and wallet and – unexpectedly – a packet of cigarettes out of his hoodie pockets and put them in the front pockets of his surprisingly tight black jeans. Oikawa had never seen Iwaizumi in such fitted jeans before. Sure, it wasn’t like they were plastered to his skin or anything, but the Iwaizumi he knew had no concept of the word ‘tailored’.

But the real surprise came when Iwaizumi unzipped his hoodie and stashed it in the locker, revealing a loose grey tank top that exposed large expanses of smooth, tanned skin and muscle. Oikawa must have made some sort of noise because Iwaizumi looked at him, eyebrows raised in question.

“Wha-What are you wearing, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa accused, scandalised by the sheer amount of skin that was on display.

“Clothes,” Iwaizumi deadpanned.

“But Iwa-chan! There’s…I can see side-boob!” Oikawa gasped, seemingly unable to tear his eyes away from the cut definition of Iwaizumi’s pectorals, obliques and laterals that the gaping sides of the loose-fitted tank top exposed.

Iwaizumi flicked Oikawa’s forehead, bringing his attention back up to Iwaizumi’s scowling face. “I don’t have side-boob, dumbass. I’m a guy.”

Oikawa squinted his eyes and poked Iwaizumi’s chest. “I dunno, Iwa-chan. Feels suspiciously like boob to me. All squishy.”

Which was a barefaced lie, because Iwaizumi’s chest had even less give than Oikawa had been anticipating. Had Iwaizumi managed to get even more buff in the almost 9 months since they’d started university? Sure, Iwaizumi had always been the brawniest of the Aoba Johsai third-years, and always much beefier than Oikawa, whose body type was more long and lean, but he’d seemed to reach entirely new levels of musculature since Oikawa had last really taken a look at him. And boy, was he looking now.

Iwaizumi faced Oikawa squarely and crossed his arms in displeasure. “The only thing that’s going to be squishy is your face when I punch it and turn it into mush.”

Oikawa gasped again, ignoring Iwaizumi’s threat. “And cleavage! Iwa-chan, do you have no shame?”

Iwaizumi scoffed. “Seems like you have enough for the both of us. Not taking that sweater off?” Iwaizumi asked with a nod towards the loose light blue knit sweater Oikawa had artfully draped across his lean torso.

Oikawa dug his hands into the pockets of his dark grey jeans – not quite as fitted as Iwaizumi’s, and very different to the pants he’d usually wear clubbing – and fought off an awkward blush. “You’re the last person who should be calling me out on my dress sense, Iwa-chan.”

“I’m not,” Iwaizumi replied evenly as he shut the locker and swiped his card to pay. “I’m just questioning why it is that you’re at a gay club but you look like epitome of every nerd stereotype, glasses and all.”

Oikawa opened his mouth to reply, but Iwaizumi cut him off with a sly smile. “Or is it _because_ you’re at a gay club that you’ve dressed like this. Afraid of the gay, Shittykawa? I can’t think of why else you’d wear the glasses you swore no one but me and your family would ever see. I’ve got some news for you though – glasses aren’t actually a gay repellent. Sorry.”

Oikawa pouted. “I just didn’t want to take any attention away from you like I always do, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi scoffed as he stuffed his wallet back in his jeans. “I suppose now your appearance actually fits your personality, space nerd. Now you really do look like a guy who would argue for hours on end for the existence of aliens among us.”

Oikawa scowled. “I was going for ‘hipster’.”

Iwaizumi looked at him blankly. “You failed. And unfortunately for you, I’m sure there are plenty of guys here who are into the frumpy college professor look.”

Oikawa wrinkled his nose in displeasure as they walked towards the steps that descended to the main floor. “I’m far too attractive to be considered _frumpy_ , Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi smirked. “Not right now, you’re not. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you intentionally look so plain. You usually aspire to be the best looking person in every room you enter.”

Oikawa huffed. “Please. I don’t have to aspire to that; it comes naturally. What I _did_ have to aspire to was looking so – as you so unjustly put it – frumpy. And all for you, Iwa-chan. So I wouldn’t detract from your debut into the gay clubbing scene. Be grateful.”

Iwaizumi scoffed again as they reached the bottom of the steps. “This is hardly my first time at a gay club, Oikawa.”

Oikawa gaped unattractively at him. Maybe he shouldn’t have been surprised this time, because in light of all the new information he’d learned about since Iwaizumi since the previous night – that he was gay, that he was (presumably) sexually active, that he wore gaping tank tops completely un-ironically – that he frequented gay clubs should have been a natural conclusion to draw, not a shock. And Oikawa was getting sick of being surprised by the man he’d thought he knew everything about. He was starting to question whether he’d ever really known Iwaizumi at all, or just the parts of him Iwaizumi had let Oikawa see. It hardly seemed fair – after all, Oikawa had shown Iwaizumi everything. Every fault, every insecurity. Such was his trust that the other man would accept him anyway. It stung that Iwaizumi didn’t seem to have that same trust in him.

Iwaizumi laughed at Oikawa’s expression, breaking Oikawa out of his morose thoughts, and slapped him on the back. “Now let’s go get a drink. Or five. I can’t handle these clubs sober and you owe me for making me be here at all,” he yelled at Oikawa over the pulsating bass.

Oikawa took his eyes off Iwaizumi for the first time since he’d taken his hoodie off and surveyed the area around him. His calculating eyes took in the flashing lights, the steam from the smoke machine, the mess of writhing, sweaty bodies that undulated to the beat on the dancefloor. The lighting wasn’t the best, as expected, but most of the bodies looked male and many displayed more skin than Iwaizumi. Intimidated by a sight he had no familiarity with and no point of reference to use to be able to navigate through it, the bar seemed like the best option. Perhaps alcohol would relax the persistent tension in his shoulders and neck.

So he followed Iwaizumi to the bar and kept his eyes on the back of his spiky black hair as they weaved through the crowd. Oikawa was feeling entirely too conservatively dressed and completely out of place. It wasn’t a sensation he was accustomed to at all.

So when they reached the bar and were served after a few minutes by an objectively attractive bartender with a painted-on t-shirt, Oikawa ordered 3 shots a piece. The bartender’s eyes ran over Iwaizumi’s form with interest even as Oikawa’s hand raised to pass over the payment. Being ignored in favour of his best friend was also not something Oikawa was accustomed to. In this case, he couldn’t decide if he was annoyed or relieved. On the one hand, he was always grateful and accepting of appreciative attention. On the other, he’d never been on the receiving end of an openly sexual male gaze and wouldn’t know what to do with it if he was.

The thought of it didn’t make him feel uncomfortable, exactly. More like…hyper aware. He had the vague thought that maybe if he was sure his reaction to such attention would be casual – like it usually was – he’d feel easier about the possibility of receiving it. But he wasn’t feeling remotely casual and he was starting to suspect it was because he actually _liked_ the idea of it. And he wasn’t sure what to do with that information, so he mentally filed it away and downed his 3 shots of tequila without pause, just to make sure it was truly out of mind.

Iwaizumi was looking at him with raised eyebrows. “I get that you’re a little weirded out, but damn.”

Oikawa laughed and waved his hand dismissively. “Weirded out? Since when do _I_ ever look weirded out, Iwa-chan?”

Iwaizumi gave him a pointed look. “Since now. You’re super tense and have barely moved your eyes away from me since we got here, which is usually the absolute opposite of what you do when you walk into a room.”

Oikawa scowled. Sometimes he hated that Iwaizumi knew him so well. “Even if I did look around I wouldn’t even begin to know what I’m looking at, how to analyse it.”

Iwaizumi raised a finger, signalling for Oikawa to wait. Oikawa frowned; he hated waiting. Iwaizumi waved down the same bartender, who graced him with a smile Oikawa certainly hadn’t received, and held up two of his fingers. Iwaizumi went to pay for what looked like the mixers he’d ordered, but the bartender waved him off with what Oikawa considered a predatory grin. Oikawa scowled harder, especially when Iwaizumi smiled gratefully at Mr. Super-Tight T-Shirt and waved goodbye before handing Oikawa his drink.

Oikawa pouted at Iwaizumi, which only made Iwaizumi smile fondly at him. Oikawa pouted harder.

“Don’t give me that look, Assikawa,” Iwaizumi said, close to Oikawa’s ear so he could be heard. “One, it makes you look like an idiot. Two, I just bought you a drink. You’re welcome. Three, I was thinking we could go stand in a corner somewhere and you can people-watch and I can explain whatever you don’t understand.”

A warm feeling filled all the spaces in Oikawa’s chest. Iwaizumi was taking care of him again, even when it was supposed to be _his_ night. _Typical Iwa-chan_ , Oikawa thought with a small, genuine smile.

“I’ll take that as a yes, then,” Iwaizumi said before grabbing Oikawa’s wrist. “Don’t get lost. Who knows what might happen to you in here if you do,” he teased.

Oikawa scrunched his nose at Iwaizumi’s back. “Very funny, Iwa-chan.”

But Iwaizumi either didn’t hear him or didn’t care, because he started to weave through the writhing bodies on the dancefloor, squeezing through the small spaces between sweaty, hard bodies. It was rare that Oikawa didn’t feel significantly taller than most of the people in a room. Sure, not many were his 184cm or taller, but many were close enough that he hardly towered. It added to the heated, almost claustrophobic feel of the club. The smell of sweat didn’t help – that had always been his least favourite aspect of the clubbing experience.

He could hardly take stock of the situation properly when he was so embroiled in it, so he kept his eyes focused on the back of Iwaizumi’s neck. Watched as a drop of sweat seemed to roll in slow motion down the line of it. Suddenly sweat didn’t seem like such a bad thing. Suddenly Oikawa wondered what it would taste like.

And judging by the looks of interest Oikawa couldn’t help but notice, he wasn’t the only one who wondered that. Not that he could really blame them – the glisten of sweat on Iwaizumi’s bared skin made it looked entirely too tantalising, a word he never thought he’d use to describe his best friend’s body. But yet there he was, feeling unmistakeably _hungry_.

His curiosity reared its head once more and in the middle of a dance floor, surrounded by attractive queer men, Oikawa wondered. But now the mental images weren’t of Iwaizumi kissing a faceless man, licking a faceless man. Now Oikawa’s face was superimposed and his body appeared under Iwaizumi’s large, capable, calloused ace’s hands. Now it was Oikawa Iwaizumi gazed at intensely as he moved his body alongside Oikawa’s, against and across and…and…

Suddenly Iwaizumi’s firm grasp around Oikawa’s wrist felt like too much – too much contact, too much skin on his – and he longed desperately to be out of that dancefloor, away from the mass of male bodies, free from the thoughts in his heads, thoughts he wasn’t able to control. It was the place, he decided. It was the situation – completely and utterly new and novel – that was causing him to think about Iwaizumi in _that_ way. To think of him as more than friend.

But then, they’d always been more than friends, in a way. _Friend_ had never seemed to truly be able to encompass what they were to each other, nor did _childhood friend_ or even _best friend_. Mattsun and Makki had always referred to them as a married couple, as husband and wife (Oikawa had always pretended not to know that he was meant to be the wife), as mum and dad. And really, they hadn’t been so far off the mark. His relationship with Iwaizumi had always had that kind of feel to it, two people who were completely comfortable with each other, knew everything about each other, whose relationship dynamic shifted between the extremes of fondness and infuriation. He’d always considered Iwaizumi his partner – and not just in volleyball, though that had always been the context.

But really, Iwaizumi was his partner in many other ways too. He was, essentially, his other half. Oikawa had never felt settled when Iwaizumi was too far away, too distant from him for too long. Which was why going to different universities had been even more difficult than he’d thought it’d be. Which was why he’d increasingly found himself spending more and more of his time thinking about Iwaizumi, wondering what he was doing, missing the feeling of his presence, missing the days when being able to see each other was as effortless as breathing. Missing the days when Iwaizumi’s presence in his life was a given, wasn’t even a question.

Because Iwaizumi was the only one who'd ever truly understood Oikawa. And Oikawa was more than halfway convinced that he was the only one who ever would, ever _could_. He’d never wanted to examine too closely why none of his myriad relationships had never worked out, why he’d always felt something missing in it no matter how much he cared for the girl involved. He hadn’t cared to scrutinize it, hadn’t felt the need to, young as he was. There had always been plenty of time to figure all of that out in time to settle down.

But settle down with whom? Spending all of his days with anyone but Iwaizumi had always seemed wrong somehow. The idea of someone taking the place of significance and importance to him Iwaizumi currently held had never really felt right. He’d always thought that maybe he just hadn’t found the right person yet. But what if he had? What if that person was the person who’d been right in front of him for the vast majority of his life?

Oikawa had always dismissed the thought – the rare times it surfaced – because it had always seemed ridiculous. He didn’t have romantic feelings for Iwaizumi. And he didn’t have sexual feelings for him, either. And while Oikawa knew not everyone was capable of such feelings, that not everyone required them to have meaningful, committed relationships, he always had. So Iwaizumi not being his partner in every way possible had felt wrong, but it hadn’t quite felt right either.

Yet now something within him was straining to click into place. Those things that had been missing, perhaps. And it terrified him. So he pulled his wrist out of Iwaizumi’s grip the moment they exited the dancefloor and focused all his awareness externally, to anything and everything that wasn’t himself.

It was easy enough to do, with so many fascinating things to look at. They stood side by side, shoulder-against-shoulder – closer than Oikawa was entirely comfortable with, but the proximity couldn’t be helped thanks to the extreme volume of the music. So Oikawa tried not to think about the sound of Iwaizumi’s voice in his ear and the feel of his breath against his neck and how close his face was as Oikawa pointed out different people on the dancefloor for Iwaizumi to describe.

There were a lot of what Iwaizumi called Twinks, which Iwaizumi said was hardly surprising as the standard Japanese body shape lent itself to that type. Oikawa didn’t like how pretty most of them looked. But there were also more than a few Bears, a type Oikawa found extremely fascinating. Then there were what Iwaizumi referred to as Circuit Boys, Art Gays and Show-Queens, though he did add that one couldn’t be entirely accurate pinning down someone’s type just by looking at them.

“So what type are you, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa asked curiously. He didn’t seem to fit into any of the ones he’d mentioned so far.

Iwaizumi huffed air out of his nose in amusement, a motion Oikawa could only catch because he was standing so close and felt the puff of it on his shoulder. A shiver ran down his spine.

“I don’t really fit into any type, though I suppose if you really want a label I could be considered a Gay Jock.”

Oikawa looked Iwaizumi up and down, took note of his musculature for what felt like the hundredth time that evening and the masculinity that seemed to ooze from every pore. “Yeah, I can see that.”

“But, you know, just like with anything not everyone fits into any one given type. Some identify with multiple types, some none. They’re only really used so people in clubs like this can make quick decisions about who they want to fuck.”

Oikawa felt his face burn and for the first time ever was grateful for poor lighting. “So what type do you like, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa tried really hard to keep his tone light and casual to disguise just how much he wanted to know the answer.

Because he wanted to be Iwaizumi’s type. Because then there might be a possibility. _For what, exactly? Where am I even going with this train of thought?_

Iwaizumi coughed awkwardly into his hand. “I don’t really have one.”

Oikawa snorted. Delicately, of course. “Lie. Try again.”

Iwaizumi scowled beside him. “None of your business then.”

Oikawa narrowed his eyes at him. “Rejected. Try again.”

“I refuse.”

“You’re not allowed to refuse me, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa scolded.

“Yes I am. I just did.”

“Iwa-chan.”

“No.”

“Iwa-chaaaaaaan.”

“Nope.”

Oikawa pouted, curiosity levels the highest they’d been that evening. He never had liked when Iwaizumi hid things from him because if Iwaizumi felt the need to hide it, it must be super important. Like his sexuality, for example. So what could possibly be on par with _that_?

These were the things he _needed_ to know. So he tried again with an extra dose of pathetic pleading in his tone. Iwaizumi had always been weak to that tone.

“Iwa-”

“No.”

Oikawa pouted at the quick shut-down. “So mean, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi huffed in amusement. “Like I’ve ever cared about that.”

“But-”

“Drop it, Oikawa,” Iwaizumi stated. And Oikawa dropped it, because Iwaizumi had used his name correctly. Because of the seriousness of his tone. Because at the end of the day, Oikawa wasn’t willing to push Iwaizumi into a place he wasn’t comfortable going.

Besides, he’d find out one day. He didn’t believe in letting go of prey once he’d sighted it.

Iwaizumi crossed his arms over his chest as they gazed silently at the crowd, causing every Twink within sight of him to do a double take.

 _Stupid man cleavage. Stupid biceps,_ Oikawa thought grumpily. Really, it was indecent. The Iwaizumi he knew had never seemed to care about how many muscles he had nor how defined they were. He’d only cared about the utility of them – were his arms able to spike hard, were his legs able to jump high? Then again, perhaps he’d never seemed to care because he hadn’t cared about attracting female attention. But now that he’d found the type of attention he wanted? Well, apparently Iwaizumi was as much of a show pony as he’d always accused Oikawa of being. _Hypocrite,_ Oikawa thought spitefully.

Oikawa was struggling to find a topic of conversation that wouldn’t reveal the depths of his desperation to know more about Iwaizumi when a very attractive woman walked in front of them and moved her gaze over Iwaizumi blankly before eyeing Oikawa with interest and more than a hint of invitation. She followed that up with an openly flirtatious smile, which Oikawa returned on reflex. Obviously her gaydar was much better than his.

Oikawa had no intention of following her, of taking her up on her implied offer, but he catalogued her face into his memory for later. Just in case.

Just in case Iwaizumi went off and hooked up with some other guy. The thought felt like acid in his stomach.

An audible sigh drew his attention to Iwaizumi in time to see the other roll his eyes at the wordless interaction. Oikawa grinned slyly and was about to tease Iwaizumi with his usual bout of ‘Well what did you expect?’ despite the fact that Iwaizumi had been checked out approximately 10 times more that night, but a sudden thought quickly derailed that idea and his insatiable curiosity decided to follow the new flow.

“She was hot.”

Iwaizumi nodded noncommittedly. “She was.”

“So you still notice that kind of thing?” Oikawa questioned.

“Of course. Just like anyone can recognise when someone’s objectively attractive, opposite sex or not.”

“But you don’t appreciate the way women look? They don’t turn you on?”

Iwaizumi shrugged. “I do and they can. But it stops at visual appreciation. I have no desire to take it any further.”

“How do you know?” Oikawa asked, unable to disguise his eagerness.

Iwaizumi turned to look at him squarely. “Are you asking me if I’ve fucked a woman, Trashykawa?”

Oikawa smiled innocently. “Well, now that you’ve mentioned it…”

“You are such trash.”

“I wasn’t the one who brought it up.”

“You may as well have.”

“But I didn’t.”

“I swear to god, Shittykawa -” Iwaizumi growled.

“It’s just a simple yes or no question, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa pointed out helpfully.

“Fine. Yes, then,” Iwaizumi grunted.

Oikawa wasn’t quite sure what answer he’d been expecting, but what he certainly hadn’t expected was the way his stomach lurched nauseatingly at the answer. His reaction was hardly logical, Oikawa knew. He’d hardly been abstinent himself, so it was perfectly logical that Iwaizumi hadn’t been either. And he’d already alluded to being sexually active with men. But Oikawa realised then that he’d always thought of that sexual activity in terms other than penetrative sex. Why? Was it because he couldn’t imagine Iwaizumi having penetrative sex with anyone? Because he hadn’t _wanted_ to?

“Oh,” was all he said in response. Iwaizumi raised a questioning eyebrow at the uncharacteristically weak response, but said nothing.

They were silent for a good minute before Oikawa couldn’t help himself anymore.

“So how was it?”

Iwaizumi groaned. “I fucking _knew_ you were going to ask me that.”

“Then maybe you should have just offered the answer proactively. Saved me from the embarrassment of asking,” Oikawa scolded.

“One, you don’t have enough shame to feel something like embarrassment. Two, I was hoping the universe would finally right itself and I would exist in a world where you aren’t persistently annoying.”

“I don’t hear an answer in there, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi sighed in defeat. “ _Fine_ , but only because I know you’ve already reached your limit of tolerance for things I won’t tell you for the year. Any more and that stupid head of yours will explode from stress.”

“It was one thing,” Oikawa replied blankly.

“I know. Do you want me to answer or not?” Iwaizumi growled.

“Yes, please,” Oikawa responded meekly.

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes at Oikawa’s tone before shrugging. “It was okay. Before you ask – and I will answer proactively this time because I _definitely_ don’t want to hear you voice _this_ question – yes, I could get it up just fine. It just wasn’t as enjoyable as I felt sex should be. Could be. And I knew it was because she was female.”

“Huh. So what don’t you like about fucking women, then?”

Iwaizumi shrugged again, awkwardly this time. “I dunno. They look great and all, but they’re too...” he held his hands up in front of him as though he was gripping two breasts “…soft.” He coughed uncomfortably when he realised what he was doing and crossed his arms. “And their voices are all wrong. Not...uh…deep enough, I guess.”

“Interesting,” Oikawa mused, because it really was. Those were the things he’d always liked about women. Then again, there was a lot to be said for a firm, muscular body and a deep, hoarse voice. Oikawa resolutely ignored the fact that he was staring at Iwaizumi when he thought that.

Iwaizumi looked surprised. “Really?”

Oikawa nodded eagerly. “Of course. I want to understand it all.” He didn’t tell Iwaizumi that he wanted to understand it more because he was trying to make sense of all the unexpected feelings he was currently experiencing in regards to Iwaizumi and less because he wanted to understand Iwaizumi himself.

Iwaizumi sighed. “Well, I’m glad you’re making an effort, but I’ve had about as much as I can handle of this topic without punching you in the face, so why don’t you think up a new one while I go to the restroom.”

Oikawa put his now empty drink down on the standing table beside them. “I’ll come with you.” He didn’t really need to go, but it was better than standing there alone.

The sound of Iwaizumi’s wry laughter surprised him. “I wouldn’t, unless you’re okay with people assuming we’re going there to take care of an entirely different kind of business.”

Oikawa blinked at him in shock and felt colour crawl up the skin of his neck. “Oh. I guess I’ll wait for you here then.”

He wasn’t apprehensive because he didn’t like the idea of people assuming he and Iwaizumi were about to fuck. It was that he _did_ like it. And _that_ was more than enough to cause a healthy amount of apprehension. Maybe some time apart from Iwaizumi was needed, even if that meant the gay magnet that Iwaizumi apparently was disappeared, leaving Oikawa’s delicate and innocent self exposed to the questionable intentions of the men around him.

Men such as the one who started to approach him the moment Iwaizumi was out of sight. Oikawa studied him with narrowed eyes as he grew closer, his direct golden gaze not leaving any doubt as to his destination, not liking that the man was taller than him and startlingly handsome. It was a different kind of attractiveness to Oikawa’s delicate beauty and Iwaizumi’s rough masculine features. It was all in the sharp angles of his jaw and cheekbones, in the hint of a smile Oikawa suspected was always present on his lips, in the way he moved through the space around him with a cat’s grace. It _wasn’t_ in the spiky black bed hair, but if Oikawa paired it with the rest of the man’s appearance it strangely fit, presenting an overall picture of a man who moved through the world with confidence and ease and didn’t care what anyone thought about how he did so.

He also looked vaguely familiar, but Oikawa didn’t have time left to try to place him as the man reached his side.

“Yo,” the man greeted casually as he leaned on the wall beside Oikawa.

“Hello,” Oikawa replied carefully, not yet sure what to make of him.

“Nice glasses,” the man commented with a hint of a smile that made Oikawa unsure whether he was complimenting him or insulting him.

“Thank you,” Oikawa replied evenly, leaning a bit further away so he didn’t have to tilt his head up to meet the man’s arresting golden stare.

“You sound suspicious,” the man observed, amusement present in the tone of his voice and the curl of his lips.

“You look suspicious,” Oikawa shot back, refusing to be intimidated. Was this how gay people hit on each other? If so, how did they ever get anything done? This was bizarre.

“Valid,” the man replied with an unconcerned shrug.

Oikawa narrowed his eyes at him. “So what’s your name, Mr. Suspicious?”

“Ah, and the nickname emerges!” the man crowed triumphantly before placing a hand lightly on his chest. “I feel blessed.”

“What?”

The man fully grinned at him now and Oikawa found himself subconsciously comparing him to a cat once more, one who’d just caught his prey. Oikawa didn’t care to view himself as prey so he scowled, which only made the man’s grin widen.

“I might be one of Iwaizumi’s volleyball teammates. And he might have told us all about his pain-in-the-ass childhood friend who has a penchant for assigning descriptive nicknames to everyone he encounters.”

Oikawa decided to ignore the pain-in-the-ass comment in order to focus on more pertinent issues. “If you know him so well why didn’t you approach us when he was here.”

The man’s grin didn’t waver. “Because Iwaizumi wouldn’t like me talking to you.”

“I see I chose a fitting nickname,” Oikawa commented shrewdly.

“No doubt, no doubt,” the man agreed pleasantly.

“And why would he not want you talking to me exactly?” Oikawa pressed, annoyed that this already infuriating man was making him push for answers.

“Because he knows me,” he replied vaguely and Oikawa felt like scratching the smug cat’s grin off his stupidly handsome face.

“Sounds ominous,” Oikawa replied with false lightness.

“Doesn’t it, though.”

“Not going to elaborate?” Oikawa questioned casually.

“Where’s the fun in that?” the man replied with nothing but trouble in his tone.

“Will you at least tell me your name?” Oikawa grumbled, patience already almost completely spent.

“Oh, of course, of course!” he laughed heartily. “How rude of me.” He put his hands in his pockets and crossed his legs in front of him, leaning artfully against the wall, before giving Oikawa a smile full of teeth. “Kuroo Tetsurou, middle blocker, raging pansexual.”

Any shock Oikawa felt at Kuroo openly labelling himself as pansexual was quickly suppressed because Oikawa had the feeling this Kuroo had the tendency to pounce on any form of weakness he saw and exploit it ruthlessly. Kind of like Oikawa, but Oikawa was _much_ subtler about it, therefore _much_ more likeable.

He was also glad he’d read up on various sexual and gender identities that morning so he knew what the hell pansexual even was. He’d never allowed any form of ignorance to prevail if he had a means of eradicating it.

Kuroo was waiting for Oikawa’s introduction expectantly, his raised eyebrow no doubt questioning what was taking him so long. Oikawa stifled a scowl – Iwaizumi was the only person allowed to raise their eyebrows at Oikawa.

So he did what he always did when faced with an unpleasant situation – he gave it his most pleasant smile. The one that straddled the line between friendly and threatening. Kuroo grinned in appreciation.

“Oikawa Tooru, setter, raging heterosexual.”

Kuroo’s grin changed from appreciative to sly. “Are you now?”

Oikawa blinked in confusion but didn’t dare drop his smile. “…yes?”

“We’ll see,” Kuroo replied knowingly.

“What?” Oikawa replied blankly.

“Oh, don’t mind me,” Kuroo said with a laugh. “I just have a talent for helping people discover and explore their repressed sexualities.”

“How nice for you.” Oikawa refused to take the obvious bait.

“Oh, it is, it is!” Kuroo said enthusiastically. “So far I have three on my list, Iwaizumi included.”

Oikawa still refused to take the bait, even though his damned curiosity was screaming at him to bite.

“Who are the other two?” he asked instead.

“One you won’t know, but one you will. Bokuto Koutarou, my ultimate bro. I believe you set for him.”

So this Kuroo _was_ the Kuroo Bokuto had frequently mentioned. No wonder he’d looked so familiar – Bokuto had showed him a photo of the two of them once, but Oikawa hadn’t really been paying attention at the time because he found it conducive to his mental health to not pay Bokuto too much attention off court. However, that wasn’t the aspect of Kuroo’s revelation that interested him the most.

 “So Bokuto _is_ gay!” Oikawa exclaimed excitedly.

“Bisexual, actually,” Kuroo corrected nonchalantly. “ _Akaashi_ is the gay one. They’re a thing.”

“I _knew_ it,” Oikawa said smugly, more to himself than Kuroo.

“So your gaydar isn’t completely broken then,” Kuroo mused thoughtfully.

“Excuse me?” Oikawa’s special smile was back in full force.

Kuroo matched it with one of his own special grins. “Well, you did fail to see how much of a raging homosexual Iwaizumi is.”

“I wouldn’t call him _raging_ ,” Oikawa countered testily.

“Then you obviously haven’t seen him in action,” Kuroo challenged with a smirk.

“And you have?” Oikawa knew the words were a mistake the moment they left his lips.

Kuroo’s wide smile only confirmed it. “Didn’t I just say I was the one who helped him discover and explore his repressed sexuality?”

Oikawa narrowed his eyes at him. “I was operating under the impression that you’re never serious, so I didn’t take you at your word. Sorry.”

Kuroo smiled serenely. “If one is always serious about not being serious, can they still be considered unserious?”

Oikawa paused, digested that, came to a conclusion.

“I don’t like you.”

“I accept that,” Kuroo replied easily.

Oikawa cleared his throat. His curiosity would no longer be denied. “…so you actually…” He made himself stop and cursed himself for not being able to resist. Kuroo’s smile of absolute glee hardly made him feel better about being so weak.

“If you’re wondering ‘Did we fuck’ the answer is, sadly, no,” Kuroo replied morosely. “An unfortunate reality of gay sexual relations is the possibility of encountering the tension of two tops trying to fuck each other. Someone’s gotta give, otherwise no dicks will be going in holes. Regrettably, Iwaizumi is just as stubborn as I so, alas, no hole for this dick.”

Oikawa tried not to flush; failed. He wasn’t quite sure if it was out of unwarranted anger at Kuroo’s claims, a strange sense of jealousy that this man in front of him knew Iwaizumi in a way Oikawa didn’t, or simply because he hadn’t expected Kuroo to speak so plainly. Though from all he’d learned of the guy in this short amount of time, he really should have expected that last one.

So was it the jealousy? The anger? Were the root causes the same?

 _So many questions, all of which I have no desire to know the answer to._ Though the curiosity surging through his body clearly disagreed.

“Don’t believe a word he says, Oikawa.”

Oikawa startled at the sound of Iwaizumi’s voice behind him. Iwaizumi moved around him and stood between them, arms crossed in displeasure as he scowled at Kuroo, who only grinned unapologetically in response.

“Kuroo has made it his life’s calling to be as full of shit as humanly possible.”

Kuroo simply laughed. “Iwaizumi, I knew you’d pop up eventually to ruin all my fun.”

Iwaizumi ignored him and focused his attention on Oikawa, who at this point didn’t really know what was going on.

“He has a long-term partner who, despite looking like they don’t care about anything, would actually care if Kuroo went around attempting to entice straight people to the queer side with his dick. Not that he could. Not with that hair.”

“My, you really _are_ gay!” Kuroo exclaimed with false shock before turning his smirk onto Oikawa. “I can’t believe Mr. Observant here missed it for so many years.”

“Mr. Observant?” Oikawa questioned irritably.

Kuroo grinned innocently. “What, you’re the only one allowed to assign descriptive nicknames? Though I suppose in this case it’s more sarcastic than accurate.”

Oikawa scowled.

Iwaizumi laughed. “To be fair, most people would think Oikawa’s gay before they ever even thought to look at me, so maybe that’s why Oikawa didn’t see it. So blinded by his own self-proclaimed fabulousness.”

“And here I thought you didn’t subscribe to stereotypes, Iwa-chan! For shame!” Oikawa scolded before pausing, something snagging at the back of his mind. “And who’s _they_?”

“Trust Mr. Observant to pick up on the pronoun use,” Kuroo responded perceptively before his smile became fond. “Kenma. They’re agender, so they don’t use binary pronouns. Childhood friend turned partner.” Tragically, the fond smile didn’t last long and quickly morphed back into its usual smug state. “Isn’t it just great when that happens? Though I guess you two wouldn’t be familiar with the feeling.”

Iwaizumi glared at Kuroo. “But I _am_ familiar with punching people in the face when they piss me off. Just ask Oikawa.”

“It’s true; he’s very violent,” Oikawa agreed earnestly.

“Aggressive affection?” Kuroo questioned teasingly.

Iwaizumi snorted. “Nope, just aggression.”

Oikawa sighed dramatically and turned to Kuroo, his new potential ally. “You see how mean he is to me? And he claims to be the persecuted one in our relationship.”

“Is that so? You poor thing,” Kuroo purred comfortingly.

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. “Oh, please.” He turned to Kuroo, “Try being stuck to _this_ for fifteen years and you’ll understand the true meaning of persecution.”

Oikawa scrunched his nose at Iwaizumi in displeasure. “I don’t believe we were ever superglued together, Iwa-chan.”

“You did actually try that once when we were eight.”

Oikawa waved his hand dismissively. “My point is that no one was forcing you to ‘be stuck’ to me,” Oikawa challenged, using his fingers as quotation marks. “You chose this path, Iwa-chan, and I doubt you would have stayed on it if it were truly _that_ difficult.”

Oikawa’s tone was light, but he felt the undertone of truth to his words. Their relationship had been too uncertain recently for this conversation to completely feel like a joke.

Iwaizumi obviously didn’t feel the same because he just laughed. “More like I decided to sacrifice myself because you’re completely useless. I shudder to think of what would become of the world if you were allowed to move through life without my grounding influence.”

Oikawa sniffed. “More like you just want an excuse to ride on the coattails of my brilliance. Admit it,” he demanded, pointed his finger in Iwaizumi’s face. “Without me your life would be excruciatingly boring.”

Iwaizumi smacked Oikawa hand away and sighed with longing before looking up at the ceiling. “Ah, blessed boredom. How I have longed for such peace.”

Oikawa narrowed his eyes. “Peace is overrated.”

Iwaizumi narrowed his in return. “So is drama.”

Oikawa gasped dramatically, intentionally of course. “You take that back!”

Iwaizumi crossed his arms. “I refuse.”

Iwaizumi's body language was all obstinateness and annoyance, but the smile dancing on his lips spoke of something entirely different. Oikawa too felt amusement bubble up in his chest; he wasn’t going to be able to keep a straight face for much longer. God, he’d _missed_ this.

He never got the chance to test his limits because Kuroo loudly cleared his throat beside them. Oikawa had almost entirely forgotten he was there.

Once Iwaizumi and Oikawa looked at him, he graced them with a grin that was probably supposed to look innocent but the glint in his eyes made it anything but. “As much as I enjoy basking in all this repressed sexual tension, I’m going to need another drink to be able to handle any more of it.”

Iwaizumi glared at Kuroo while Oikawa blinked blankly, frozen in place.

Sexual tension? Between him and Iwaizumi? Is that really what it looked like from the outside? Oikawa had never really thought about their banter, other than that he enjoyed it immensely even though he figured he must be somewhat masochistic to do so. But now that he did, he supposed he understood how it could be seen that way. They did always have a tendency to get right up into each other’s personal space, and Oikawa’s pulse always had risen with every semi-faux insult traded. He suspected half the reason he was so fond of their regularly repertoire was because what they said was actually true, but yet they both knew the truth hardly mattered. That while each other’s habits would get on the nerves of literally anyone else, it didn’t actually affect _them_ at all. That was why they could so easily joke about it.

“Oh look, Iwaizumi!” Kuroo exclaimed. “Oikawa’s face is getting all red! Maybe he’s feeling a bit hot. Some tequila should help.”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. “Because pouring alcohol on fire is always a good idea.”

Kuroo slapped Iwaizumi on the back. “My man! And Oikawa says you’re boring.”

“I love how you always intentionally ignore my sarcasm,” Iwaizumi sighed.

"You're just so earnest and serious I can’t help but take everything you say at face value.” He turned to Oikawa with a smile. “Isn’t that right, Oikawa?”

Oikawa smiled sweetly. “I have often claimed that Iwa-chan has the personality of a pebble that just so happened to get stuck in the bottom of my Gucci loafers.”

Kuroo laughed. “You’re super petty, Oikawa, but I like that about you. I’m going to buy you a drink.”

Oikawa held up a hand. “Please don’t. I don’t want to feel indebted to you in any way. I sense it would be bad for my health.”

Iwaizumi smirked. “Well, at least you’re not completely clueless, malfunctioning gaydar aside.”

Oikawa groaned. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

Kuroo smiled cunningly. “Where would the fun in that be?”

Oikawa narrowed his eyes at him. “This doesn’t apply to you. I plan to never see you again after tonight. Furthermore, I will be erasing all the parts of my memory that feature you.”

Kuroo grinned sharply. “Works for me. That way I can meet you for the first time over and over again and troll you hard every time. Because face it, Oikawa. I’m an inextricable part of your life now. We’re _connected_.”

“I feel nauseous. Please stop.”

“That’s just excitement.”

“Will it still be excitement when it ends up all over your shoes?” Oikawa challenged with his own sharp grin.

Kuroo leaned forward, his smile now nothing but a threat. “If you ruin the J’s Kenma bought for my birthday last year, it will be the last thing you ever do.”

Oikawa leaned forward to meet it. “I’d like to see you try, Chicken Head.”

Kuroo gaped at Oikawa for a few long moments before bursting out with laughter. “Chicken Head? I see the nickname has evolved. Is this a usual thing, or am I an exception?”

Oikawa smiled sweetly at Kuroo. “As if _you’re_ special enough to ever be an exception.”

 Kuroo laughed again. “God help me, but I really do like you. You’re definitely getting that drink, no arguments.”

Oikawa sighed in defeat. “Fine, but only if I get to buy you one in return later. To even the score.”

“If you insist. Now, shall we?” Kuroo purred and turned to head to the bar, only then realising that Iwaizumi was looking at the ceiling, completely unaware of what was going on.

“Iwaizumi?”

Iwaizumi blinked slowly as he returned to conscious awareness. “Sorry, I was just pretending I was literally anywhere else. You two finished your pissing match to determine who the most unpleasant person in the universe is?”

Kuroo grinned as they started to move towards the bar. “You could say that,” he yelled over the music, louder now that they were closer to the dancefloor.

“Who won?” Iwaizumi yelled back.

Kuroo looked behind him and widened his grin. “It was a draw.”

Oikawa snorted from behind Iwaizumi, a sound he thought the music would cover but apparently Iwaizumi heard it, because he turned around and grinned conspiratorially at Oikawa.

Oikawa stopped dead as his heart skipped a beat, the time it took for the impact of Iwaizumi’s smile to make its way to his brain and down through his nervous system. Then it sped up as soon as his heart got the message that _holy shit_ , Iwaizumi was stunning when he smiled. Oikawa had the strongest urge to collect up all the smiles Iwaizumi had ever smiled, would ever smile, and keep them hidden away all for himself.

Iwaizumi soon noticed Oikawa was no longer following him, so he walked back to where Oikawa was standing, firmly grasping Oikawa’s wrist in his hand and looking exasperated. “Stay close, dumbass. I don’t want you to get lost.”

Oikawa nodded numbly in response before Iwaizumi began to drag him along. Numb was really all he _could_ feel, so overwhelmed was he by the flurry of emotion that had decided to assault him all at once. His chest ached, but for what he didn’t know.

When they finally reached the bar Kuroo handed Oikawa a shot glass ostentatiously topped with whipped cream.

“What the hell is this?” Oikawa questioned.

Kuroo smirked. “It’s called a blow job. I bought it especially for you, my new friend Oikawa, because I figured even you should experience having a blow job in a gay club.”

Kuroo laughed at whatever expression Oikawa had on his face before turning back to the bar to order more drinks. Oikawa looked down at the ‘blow job’ and then at Iwaizumi, who was valiantly but unsuccessfully trying to hold back hysterical laughter.

“Who the fuck _is_ this guy? Where did he come from? Why is he here?”

Oikawa’s utter confusion and outrage cracked the final seal for Iwaizumi and he burst out with peals of laughter. Between laughs he answered, “I’ve ask myself those questions almost every day since he grinned at me from the other side of the net as he blocked my first spike at volleyball tryouts.”

Oikawa groaned. “The most important question is, when is he going to leave?”

Kuroo chose that moment to turn around, three shots of tequila in his hands and mixed chasers on the bar behind him. “Kenma kicked me out of our dorm room until at least 3 a.m.” He explained as he distributed the shots. “They’re online gaming with some of the Karasuno boys.”

“I hope Tobio-chan loses,” Oikawa said hopefully. He was still not fully over being beaten by his insufferable kouhai a year ago.

“Tobio? As in Kageyama Tobio? I sense history there,” Kuroo said, voice full of interest.

Iwaizumi shut his curiosity down with a raised hand. “Let’s not go there. _Please_.” And possibly because he knew he’d need to distract Kuroo with something else to let go of that particular bone, Iwaizumi continued with, “This is probably a stupid question, but why does Kenma feel the need to kick you out when they’re gaming?”

Kuroo shook his head sadly. “Kenma claims I’m an annoying distraction for some reason.”

Oikawa rolled his eyes and Iwaizumi responded sarcastically with, “Yes, I can’t image why they’d find you at all annoying or distracting.”

“Right? I mean, who doesn’t like surprise blow jobs?” He grinned evilly, “Well, besides Oikawa."

Iwaizumi and Kuroo cheers'ed that statement with their shot glass and shit-eating grins before shooting them back, leaving Oikawa with a frown and two shots, one of which he would rather die before drinking. He threw back the tequila, letting it burn down his throat, and glared at the offending leftover shot.

Kuroo sidled up to Oikawa. “Are you wondering how to drink it? I suppose that’s only natural, since you’ve never blowed anyone before.” Oikawa gaped wordlessly at him, which Kuroo obviously took as a sign to continue. “It’s simple – all you gotta do is open your mouth wide, slack your jaw and throat and just swallow it whole.”

Oikawa just stared at Kuroo in astonishment as Iwaizumi lost it laughing in the background.

Kuroo smiled apologetically – so of course it came across as completely _un_ apologetic – at Iwaizumi. “Sorry bro, I think I broke him.”

Iwaizumi waved off Kuroo’s false concern as he continued to choke with laughter. “Don’t ever apologise for providing me with one of the best things I’ve ever seen.”

Oikawa shut his eyes, feeling unfairly victimised. “How does Kenma put up with you? I’m asking genuinely here, because I legitimately want to know if it’s even possible. And if so, _how_. Dear god, _how_.”

Kuroo smiled, that little fond smile he seemed to save for whenever Kenma came up in conversation. “I think it’s part natural ability to not give a fuck and part prolonged exposure. They’ve been stuck with me so long escape is no longer a conceivable option. It’s great when that happens, huh Oikawa?”

Oikawa narrowed his eyes at him. “I couldn’t possibly begin to guess what you mean by that.”

“Uh huh,” Kuroo replied knowingly before turning to Iwaizumi, who was wiping tears from the corner of his eyes. Oikawa pouted – it hadn’t been _that_ funny. He scowled at the stupid shot he was still holding onto for some reason.

“You done over there, man? Want to head to the smoking level?” Kuroo suggested.

Iwaizumi shrugged. “Yeah, I could do with a smoke after that.” He looked at Oikawa, then down at the shot in his hand. “You going to drink that?”

Oikawa raised his eyebrows at him. “Do I even need to answer that?”

Iwaizumi’s eyes danced with amusement. “I guess not. But someone’s gotta drink it.” And before Oikawa could even speculate who – though his vote was definitely leaning towards cat-grin Kuroo – Iwaizumi plucked the shot from Oikawa’s fingers, opened his mouth, relaxed his jaw and sucked it down in one go, cheeks hollowing with the motion.

And Oikawa felt his body go up in flames, like the very fires of hell were licking at his insides. Because _Jesus Christ_ , he now saw why they called it a blow job. He was torn between hating Kuroo for the smug look on his face as he observed Oikawa’s reaction and thanking him for providing Oikawa with one of the best things he’d ever seen.

Iwaizumi wiped his face with the back of his hand and motioned for Oikawa to follow him, which Oikawa did without much conscious thought, his brain still trying desperately to process what he’d just seen.

Was that the hottest thing he’d seen in his entire life? All evidence – flushed skin, shortened breath, quickened pulse, stimulated genitalia – was pointing to yes. It was actually getting uncomfortable to walk and for the first time that night Oikawa was grateful his knit was long enough to hide the evidence of his reaction.

His completely normal biological reaction. It totally wasn’t weird that he wanted to watch his childhood friend give him a blow job. Not at all. This was all completely fine.

Oikawa had almost convinced himself of that by the time they’d reached the next floor down, by the time Iwaizumi had put a cigarette between his lips.

Oikawa almost groaned aloud. He’d just calmed his body down, for Christssake! And why was the sight of Iwaizumi curling his lips around the cigarette and breathing out smoke between slightly parted lips so goddamn arousing? Smoking was a filthy, dirty habit and he was extremely annoyed that Iwaizumi had gotten into it and planned to scold him about it later, and Oikawa usually couldn’t bear to be within a few feet of a people smoking, but nothing on earth could have enticed him to move at that moment.

So while Kuroo and Iwaizumi talked about all things volleyball Oikawa tried his best to keep up even though 80% of his attention was focused on Iwaizumi’s mouth. Was it possible to be jealous of an inanimate object? Oikawa wasn’t sure, but it was feeling pretty possible right about then.

Finally – _finally_ – they ended Oikawa’s exquisite torture and all made their way back upstairs, in deference to Oikawa’s preference. Even though the change of location helped, Oikawa found he still couldn’t quite fully engage in the conversation. And volleyball was usually the one thing he could talk about for hours, besides aliens of course. Iwaizumi was shooting him concerned glances every now and then, obviously weirded out by Oikawa’s silence, which wasn’t helping matters _at all_. What he needed was to get _away_ from Iwaizumi, to clear his head of all the _stuff_ that was crowding it, all the questions and suspicions and fears. So he excused himself to go to the bathroom, Kuroo and Iwaizumi promising to wait for him where they were.

Oikawa entered the thankfully large and relatively clean bathrooms cautiously. He listened for any sounds of sexual activity, but quickly figured out that it’d be impossible to hear over the sound of the music, muted though it was. Which was probably for the best, Oikawa decided, because listening to gay sex was the last thing he needed while questioning his sexuality.

Oikawa chose a stall and sat down on the toilet, not even bothering to lift the lid. He put his head in his hands and sighed. Then he sighed again. And one more time, because he felt the situation warranted it.

So he was definitely sexually attracted to Iwaizumi. That was new. It was no use denying it when his body had made it uncomfortably obvious. And it wasn’t so much the idea of not being completely straight that freaked him out – it was that he was having these feelings towards _Iwaizumi_.

Iwaizumi, who he’d known since elementary school. Iwaizumi, who he’d caught bugs with during summer vacation. Iwaizumi, who he’d discovered volleyball with, the sport that had shaped the course of his life.

Iwaizumi, who had given Oikawa his favourite bug because Oikawa hadn’t been able to catch one. Iwaizumi, who had brought Oikawa milk bread whenever he got sick. Iwaizumi, who had walked Oikawa home every day after school even though it was a detour from his own route home. Iwaizumi, who had always swapped his bento box with Oikawa’s because Oikawa liked Iwaizumi’s mother’s cooking better.

Iwaizumi, who always picked him up when he failed and told Oikawa he believed in him. Iwaizumi, who always stuck around after practice with Oikawa, doing his homework on the bench, just to make sure Oikawa never hurt himself again and to be there in case he did. Iwaizumi, who refused to let Oikawa’s despair at never being quite good enough to beat Shiratorizawa eat away at him. Iwaizumi, who yelled him back into line when it did.

Iwaizumi, who took care of him no matter what. Iwaizumi, the most selfless person he knew. Iwaizumi, the man he couldn’t imagine living his life without. Iwaizumi, his other half. Iwaizumi, his ace. Iwaizumi, his childhood friend.

Iwaizumi, who Oikawa was obviously in love with.

Oikawa fisted his hands in his hair and squeezed his eyes shut against the panicked tears in them. It all made sense now. The longing he’d felt for Iwaizumi’s presence ever since they’d started at different universities. The urgency to contact Iwaizumi as much as possible, even though Iwaizumi’s replies had always been sporadic at best. His penchant for bragging about Iwaizumi to anyone he met at every opportunity with a level of fondness and affection not usually reserved for a mere friend. The sheer frequency his thoughts had turned towards Iwaizumi, permeating almost every aspect of his life.

The romantic feelings had been there for a long time, exacerbated by distance and uncertainty, but Oikawa had been so constrained by his strictly heterosexual worldview that he hadn’t even known to consider their existence. The sexual attraction was the natural next step for him, a product of his intense feelings. It made sense that it had only awakened once his worldview had been forcibly expanded by Iwaizumi’s coming out, once he’d been given the knowledge to identify something that had already been there.

He didn’t know what he would label himself considering he was most definitely attracted to females in a way Iwaizumi evidently wasn’t and that Iwaizumi was, so far, the only guy he was sexually and emotionally attracted to, but that hardly mattered to him now. The only important thing was how he felt and what the _fuck_ he was going to do about it.

Clearly he would not be finding an answer in the bathroom of a gay club, 4 shots of tequila and 2 mixers deep. Besides, Kuroo and Iwaizumi would soon be wondering what was taking him so long. So Oikawa exited the stall and slowly made his way back to where Iwaizumi and Kuroo were, determined to act out the rest of the night like a person who wasn’t in the middle of an emotional crisis.

But Iwaizumi wasn’t there.

“Where’s Iwaizumi?” Oikawa asked Kuroo the second he reached him.

“Who?” Kuroo replied distractedly, eyes fixated on a couple gyrating against each other on the dancefloor. “Oh, Iwaizumi? Yeah, he got swept away to be plied with alcohol and dick.”

“What?”

Kuroo hummed thoughtfully. “You’re right, that doesn’t make sense. Iwaizumi doesn’t bottom.”

“I’m still lost,” Oikawa responded impatiently.

“I wouldn’t expect you to be anything less, Mr. Raging Heterosexual.”

Oikawa decided not to address Kuroo’s obvious sarcasm because he had much more important issues to deal with – such as locating the guy he’d only just realised he was in love with. “And I still don’t know where Iwaizumi is.”

“Basically, some guy came up to him and offered to buy him a drink so he’s at the bar with him…” Kuroo craned his neck and looked around. “No, wait. Now they’re on the dancefloor. An interesting but not entirely unexpected development.”

Oikawa started to feel a lump of dread form in his stomach. “Where?” he rasped out through a tightened throat.

“Over there,” Kuroo nodded to his left. “Towards the edge with a brown-haired pretty boy. Though it’s kind of hard to tell where one ends and the other begins at the moment.”

Oikawa turned his observation skills up to the max as he scanned that area of the dancefloor, only finding Iwaizumi because he recognised the tank top that had been taunting him all night. A tank top gripped in the hand of a man plastered to Iwaizumi’s front. Oikawa couldn’t make out his face, buried into the nape of Iwaizumi’s neck as it was. What he _could_ make out was that the man was around the same height as Iwaizumi, maybe a few centimetres shorter, with medium brown hair that was roughly the same length as Oikawa’s, but straight instead of wavy. He was able to make out the angle of Iwaizumi’s arm as it curved downwards on the man’s slender body, obviously gripping low on his back, pressing the man up against him firmly as they moved in sync to the pulsating beat. Oikawa hadn’t really paid much attention to the music until then, but now he was irritated to hear that it was a sensual melody set against the backdrop of a catchy yet simple beat. Perfect to grind to.

He’d never seen Iwaizumi dance before, had never even wondered if he could. He’d probably subconsciously assumed Iwaizumi would look completely awkward if he ever attempted such a thing. So it was with some measure of surprise that Oikawa saw that Iwaizumi could actually dance, moving his hips, legs and torso with the kind of confidence and smoothness possessed only by those who could naturally move their body in the right way.

Oikawa felt himself grow hot as he fixated on the undulations of Iwaizumi’s hips, impeccably timed to the beat. He tried not to see the second pair of hips, but they kept invading his vision nonetheless. And then the heat was no longer from arousal, but from anger. White, hot burning anger. It incinerated all logic and common sense, leaving only basic instinct that screamed _this isn’t right_.

Because Oikawa was the one who should be attached to those hips. Because Oikawa was the one who belonged on the dancefloor with Iwaizumi. Because he and Iwaizumi belonged with each other in every way two people could. It was simply the natural order of things.

Oikawa crossed his arms over his chest and clenched his fists beneath his arm pits, digging his fingernails into the skin of his palms in an attempt to create an outlet for his rage. He so badly didn’t want to look but he couldn’t seem to stop.

“They all look like that, you know,” Kuroo interjected into the middle of Oikawa’s internal fuming.

“I’m sorry?” Oikawa asked with decided disinterest. He couldn’t imagine he’d want to listen to anything _Kuroo_ had to say.

“The guys Iwaizumi hooks up with,” Kuroo elaborated, grinning when Oikawa’s attention shot towards him at the sound of Iwaizumi’s name. “They’re all some version of that.”

Oikawa’s stomach churned at the plurality of Kuroo’s statement. _More than one, there’s been more than one._ “I don’t see anything particularly special about that look,” Oikawa grumbled.

“Really? You don’t? How ironic.”

Oikawa sighed. “I know you’re trying to not-so-subtlety make some sort of point here, but such obvious tactics won’t work on me.”

“I’m sure they usually don’t,” Kuroo responded lightly, “simply because whatever bait you’re being tempted with isn’t important enough to you for you to bite. But I highly doubt Iwaizumi belongs in the category of _not important enough_. So you claim you’re not going to bite all you want, but I know you will. It’s just a matter of time, and I can be patient when I need to be.”

“Is that so?” Oikawa bit out, thoroughly irked. Kuroo really did have talent for getting on his every nerve.

“Indeed it is,” Kuroo asserted. “I am a hunter, a cat stalking its prey. A metaphorical king of the plains – I say plains because lions don’t actually live in a jungle, you know.”

Oikawa closed his eyes and prayed for deliverance in whatever form it would come. “Why are you here? What could I have _possibly_ done to deserve such affliction?”

“Do you actually want me to answer that? Because Iwaizumi has given me a _lot_ of material.”

“Where’s Kenma?” Oikawa begged. “Can they _please_ come here and save me from you?”

Kuroo laughed. “At the moment you’re saving them from me. I’ve been told people can normally only handle certain amounts of me at any given time. Except for Bokuto, who no one would ever accuse of being normal.”

Oikawa shook his head in defeat. “It makes complete sense that you two are best friends.”

“Best bros. Bros for life,” Kuroo boasted. “That’s the level above best friends, by the way.”

“You two seem too queer to be bros,” Oikawa observed. “Isn’t that an exclusively hetero thing?”

Kuroo made a dismissive sound with his mouth. “Nothing is exclusively hetero. Besides, all the best bromances are more than a little bit queer. Especially the staunchly hetero ones. You don’t cling so strongly to bro-dom unless you’re either denying your queerness with every iota of your being, or embracing it for the beautiful thing it is.”

Oikawa looked at Kuroo in confusion. “How is it that you’re completely insufferable yet one of the most interesting people I’ve ever spoken to?”

Kuroo shrugged. “I get that all the time.”

“I have never been less surprised in my entire life.” Oikawa paused. “Even from Kenma?”

It was Kuroo’s turn to look confused. “What?”

“Do you get that from Kenma too?” Oikawa clarified.

That fond smile again. “ _Originally_ from Kenma. We’re childhood friends, you know.”

“I know. You may have mentioned that about a 100 times already,” Oikawa replied impatiently.

“That’s still a good 100 less than the times you mention you are childhood friends with Iwaizumi to Bokuto and the other guys on your team,” Kuroo shot back with a triumphant grin.

Oikawa narrowed his eyes at him. “I actually hate that you two are bros.”

“We _are_ a potent force,” Kuroo agreed.

“Of absurdity.”

“I hardly think you’re one to talk,” Kuroo laughed. “If Bokuto says someone’s absurd, they must _really_ be absurd.”

“Bokuto thinks I’m absurd?” Oikawa questioned, outraged.

“To be fair, he probably just can’t handle that you have more fans than him,” Kuroo said with a shrug. “You know how he’s fuelled purely by praise. I’ve regularly had to assure him he’s cooler than you are.”

Oikawa scoffed derisively. “Not possible.”

“I dunno,” Kuroo countered. “Bokuto wouldn’t ever sulk moodily -”

“Are we talking about the same Bokuto here?”

“Let me finish. Bokuto would certainly sulk moodily and does so all the time, but he wouldn’t do so in the dark corner of a gay club watching the most important person in his life grind the fuck out of another man while desperately trying to distract himself with pointless conversation about anything other than everything he’s feeling about it.”

Oikawa paused. Opened his mouth to respond. Closed it. Paused again. Then, “I resent that.”

“Resent what?” Kuroo asked with wide eyes.

“That you’re right,” Oikawa begrudgingly admitted.

Kuroo smiled at him. Oikawa felt a sudden surge of violence. “Don’t feel too bad about it; I usually am. If we’re going to be friends you’re just going to have to get used to it.”

“We’re not going to be friends,” Oikawa replied with swift certainty.

Kuroo nodded. “That’s fair.”

Oikawa sighed heavily. “And that’s probably why I’m actually tempted to talk to you about it, because I actually give zero fucks about your opinion of me. Mostly because I feel I’d disagree with it on sheer principle alone. So there’s that.”

“Kuroo Tetsurou, helping people discover and explore their repressed sexuality since 2012,” Kuroo boasted.

“I can’t help but wonder what you get out of it,” Oikawa accused.

Kuroo placed a hand on his chest and smiled pleasantly. “Nothing. I am always this kind.”

Oikawa narrowed his eyes at him. “Why do I get the feeling you say that a lot, and that no one ever believes you when you do?”

“Maybe because if I _do_ get anything out of my acts of kindness, it’s amusement.” Kuroo smiled evilly. “And nothing is so amusing as watching straight people realise how queer they actually are. Oh, the looks on their faces!”

“What happens when you encounter someone truly straight?” Oikawa asked shrewdly.

“If there’s one thing I know in life, Oikawa, it’s people,” Kuroo lectured. “And all people are a little queer. They may be more straight than anything else, but everyone is somewhere on the sexuality spectrum– or completely outside it altogether – and that spectrum is not completely heterosexual.”

Oikawa looked at him blankly. “What course are you studying again?”

“Psychology and sociology.”

“Makes sense,” Oikawa replied before pausing thoughtfully. “You _do_ realise that psychologists these days generally frown upon using manipulation in clinical practice. Something to do with ethics, I think.”

“You call it manipulation; I call it guidance. Such things are subjective, Oikawa. Most things are, actually,” Kuroo imparted sagely.

“You are hell to argue with. I feel strongly for Kenma,” Oikawa said with true sympathy.

“Eh, they mostly just ignore everything I say anyway so it all balances out.”

“Still, you do seem to be a treasure trove of both random and relevant information,” Oikawa mused.

“I do know a little about a lot of things,” Kuroo agreed.

“You make me feel like disregarding all common sense and talking to you about my problems,” Oikawa admitted. “You’re like an anonymous queer help phone service.”

“Would prefer to be an anonymous queer sex phone service, but I’ll take it.” Kuroo shifted his tone to a sultry purr. “How may I assist you, sir?”

Oikawa rolled his eyes. “That’s _not_ what a help phone service would sound like.”

“One must work with the talents they are given,” Kuroo reasoned. “Now unburden all your fears, my dear non-friend Oikawa, and I will ease them.”

It really revealed the depths of Oikawa’s desperation to figure out what the hell he was supposed to do with the information he’d discovered a mere 10 minutes ago, and what the hell he was supposed to do about Iwaizumi grinding with a man who wasn’t him, that he was willing to ask _Kuroo_ for advice.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this but…okay. What if you fell in love with your same-sex childhood friend?”

Kuroo eyed Oikawa thoughtfully. “Are we going to keep this hypothetical even though we both know you’re talking about Iwaizumi?”

Oikawa glared at him. “You’re supposed to be anonymous, remember? That means pretending you don’t know anything about me. I wouldn’t be able to stomach this conversation without wanting to stab a shard of glass in my eye otherwise.”

Kuroo nodded in agreement. “Okay, Mr. Shard of Glass. Let’s see. Well. I, too, went through the process of falling for my same-sex childhood friend, who still identified as a guy at the time. Now Kenma is basically apathy personified, so of course I feared complete and total rejection. Actually, it seemed like the most logical outcome.”

“I can see why that would be. So what did you do?” Oikawa asked.

Kuroo grinned conspiratorially. “Why, I confessed of course. And got rejected. But that was okay, because my confession had planted a seed of an idea. And that seed made Kenma wonder, and the wondering watered that seed until it grew into a plant of possibility.”

“This is a _terrible_ metaphor.”

“See, Oikawa, once an idea is planted it is impossible to get rid of.”

“Just like you,” Oikawa said pointedly. “And did you rip that off from _Inception_? I feel like you did.”

Kuroo raised an eyebrow at him. “If anyone should know the power of an idea fostered by wonderment that turns into a possibility, it’s you. I’d bet just about anything that you didn’t start thinking of Iwaizumi in a romantic or sexual way until he came out to you last night.”

Oikawa only narrowed his eyes at him in response and refused to think of how or why Kuroo knew Iwaizumi had only come out to him the previous night. At this point Kuroo knowing things he shouldn’t know hardly surprised Oikawa and he felt it’d be entirely less terrifying to just not think of it at all.

“So eventually,” Kuroo continued, “after a month or so – because Kenma is _far_ more stubborn than you are – they came to me and asked if my offer was still on the table, which of course it was. And then I showed them they’d made the right decision by giving them pleasure the likes of which they’d never known before.”

“Gross.”

Kuroo shrugged. “Of course, that was all complicated by Kenma questioning their gender identity and thinking that I would no longer be into them if they didn’t identify with gender at all. Obviously I proved them wrong. Mostly with my dick.”

“Really gross.”

“Long story short, tenacity is key. The tenacity to not give up even when it seems hopeless, even when you can do nothing but wait for straight tides to turn queer. Or, in your case, for Iwaizumi to not care that you’re a massive pain in the ass.”

“One,” Oikawa held up a finger, “you’re hardly one to talk about being a pain in the ass. Two,” he held up the other, “Iwaizumi already doesn’t care about that.”

“Great! Then you’re further along than I was.” Kuroo turned his body to face Oikawa squarely and looked at him intently. “Oikawa, we’re quite similar, you and I.”

“Super gross.”

Kuroo placed his hands on Oikawa’s shoulders and leaned in.

“Please don’t touch me. Feeling pretty grossed out.”

Kuroo ignored him. “So I believe in you, Oikawa. If anyone has tenacity to match mine, it’s you. Go get rejected and wait for that seed to bear fruit, no matter how long it takes. Because if you don’t, if you give up, you’ll have to deal with _this_ for the rest of life.”

On _this_ Kuroo spun Oikawa around to face the direction of Iwaizumi on the dancefloor, however as soon as he did Oikawa heard a muttered “Oh, _fuck_ ”. As Oikawa’s eyes adjusted to the mixture of smoke and lights once more, the reason behind Kuroo’s outburst quickly became apparent.

Because Iwaizumi was no longer just dancing.

And Oikawa no longer had to wonder what Iwaizumi would look like as he kissed a faceless man, no longer had to wonder what the wetness of his tongue would look like as it trailed down the line of a faceless man’s neck.

Oikawa’s body tore itself apart as acute arousal warred with intense jealousy. As Iwaizumi’s strong, capable, calloused ace’s hands gripped the faceless man’s hair. As their mouths ate at each other, all-consuming and moving in time to their hips and the beat. As Iwaizumi abandoned the faceless man’s mouth to bite and lick and suck at his neck, causing the faceless man to throw his head back in pleasure.

And never before had Oikawa so badly wanted to be someone other than who he was, someone who didn’t have to stand there and watch as the man he loved unwittingly destroyed him with lips and hands and tongue and teeth on a body that wasn’t his.

Oikawa blinked the tears out of his eyes and looked away. No, he _didn’t_ have to stand there and watch. He wouldn’t. He _couldn’t_.

So he looked at Kuroo, who was watching him with a surprising amount of sympathy and concern in his expression, and said, “You’re right. I don’t want to have to deal with this. I _can’t_. I’m leaving.”

Oikawa ignored Kuroo’s protest of _wait_ and moved towards the stairs, before rerouting to the bar because he definitely planned on drinking himself into an unconscious stupor and he figured he might as well start now. He ordered two more shots of tequila and downed them without a chaser. It didn’t quite feel like enough, so he was about to order two more when an all-too-familiar hand gripped his wrist.

“Oi, Shittykawa! What are you doing? Kuroo said you were leaving? Why?”

Oikawa closed his eyes at the sound of Iwaizumi’s gruff voice. He needed him to go; to be far, far away from Oikawa.

“Go away, Iwaizumi,” Oikawa demanded coldly, refusing to look at him.

But Iwaizumi tugged roughly on Oikawa’s wrist and spun him around. “Seriously, what’s wrong? You never call me Iwaizumi. Did I do something wrong?”

Oikawa couldn’t deal with the open concern on Iwaizumi’s stupid face, a face that had just been attached to someone else’s. Anger flared in the pit of his stomach, burned his chest, scorched away all reason.

“I thought I could deal with it – with you, with watching you – but I can’t.” Oikawa hadn’t meant to be so honest, but anger had a way of bringing out the truth in him.

Iwaizumi released Oikawa’s wrist and glared at him, but Oikawa saw the hurt that lay beneath it. “What, so I disgust you? Is that it? Can’t deal with two men making out? And here I thought I could trust you to accept me. Support me.”

Oikawa’s eyes widened in shock and horror. This time it was him gripping Iwaizumi’s wrist, beseechingly. “Iwa-chan! _No_! That’s not it at all!”

Iwaizumi narrowed his eyes at Oikawa. “Then what did you mean?”

Oikawa swallowed deeply. He most definitely didn’t want to tell Iwaizumi the truth, but leaving Iwaizumi to assume that Oikawa didn’t accept him was even less tolerable. “I can’t watch because I…because it hurts me.”

Iwaizumi cocked his head to the side in confusion and narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “I don’t get it. Why would it hurt you? It’s got nothing to do with you.”

Oikawa ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “ _Yes_ , it _does_ , because it made me want to go up to that faceless ass-wipe and physically tear him away from you!” Oikawa all but yelled, begging for Iwaizumi to understand. “Because he doesn’t belong with you, Iwa-chan! I do!”

Iwaizumi blinked at him expressionlessly before comprehension slowly dawned. “We can’t talk here. Follow me.”

It was a good thing Oikawa had already been holding onto Iwaizumi wrist, because Iwaizumi moved with a level of speed Oikawa hadn’t thought possible in such a dense crowd. Oikawa followed blindly, mind reeling, as Iwaizumi led him to a deserted corner far enough away from the dancefloor that they could speak without needing to raise their voices. A surprised huff left Oikawa’s lips as Iwaizumi pressed his back firmly and abruptly against the wall, caging him in with his arms on either side of Oikawa’s head.

“Now,” Iwaizumi said in a tone that left no room for argument. “What the _hell_ did you mean by that back there?”

Oikawa’s philosophy in life was if you’re going to hit it, hit it until it breaks. Basically, if you’re going to do something, do it properly – go all the way. Because why bother at all otherwise? Six shots of tequila and the intensity in Iwaizumi’s eyes told him this was a situation to which that philosophy directly applied.

So it was with reckless abandon that Oikawa threw all caution to the wind, emptied his mind of all thought and fear, and said darkly, “I meant exactly what I said. That guy doesn’t belong with you on that dancefloor. _I_ do.”

Iwaizumi’s eyes widened. “And does _that_ mean what I think it means?”

Oikawa smiled slowly, menacingly. “It can mean whatever the fuck you want, just so long as we’re clear that Faceless Ass-wipe won’t be touching you again.”

Iwaizumi’s hands fisted against the concrete wall as he stared at Oikawa in astonishment. “You’re jealous.”

Oikawa broke his gaze away from Iwaizumi’s, looked down at the floor. “I might be.”

Iwaizumi ducked his head to catch Oikawa’s eyes with his own, refusing to let him escape. “Over _me_.”

Oikawa pouted defiantly, lifted his gaze and held Iwaizumi’s stare. “And if I am? What then?”

Oikawa hadn’t really thought far ahead enough to predict what Iwaizumi’s reaction to his admission would be. He supposed shock made sense, and Iwaizumi had certainly reacted with that. But he _definitely_ would never have anticipated the slow, enticing smile that curled Iwaizumi’s lips or the heat flaring in Iwaizumi’s eyes.

“What indeed,” Iwaizumi purred into the space between them. Oikawa was only capable of blinking silently in response as heat engulfed every inch of his skin and thickened the air around them.

“Um…” Oikawa stalled, completely at a loss. This was _not_ an Iwaizumi he knew how to handle, had never thought to prepare for a situation in which Iwaizumi’s apparently potent sexuality was turned in his direction, focused entirely on him.

“What do you want to do then, Oikawa? What do you _want_?” Iwaizumi asked with a low, caressing tone.

Oikawa gaped, his entire body aflame. “I…”

Iwaizumi smirked at Oikawa’s helplessness – probably because it was a such rare state of being for him to be in – and leaned in closer, resting his forearms against the wall beside Oikawa’s head so his mouth was at Oikawa’s ear, so their bodies whispered against each other.

“You want to dance with me? Is that what you want?”

Oikawa shivered at the feel of Iwaizumi’s lips against his ear, the caress of his breath, the heat radiating from his body. He wanted whatever would keep Iwaizumi exactly where he was, though he wouldn’t object to more, to Iwaizumi even closer.

“Yes…” Oikawa said on a longing sigh.

“Yes, what?” Iwaizumi prompted before biting down on Oikawa’s earlobe and slowly dragging his teeth along it.

Oikawa moaned loudly and collapsed against the wall behind him, eternally grateful for the cool surface of it, like a balm for the fire that had was burning him up from the inside out.

Iwaizumi’s tongue traced the shell of Oikawa’s ear. “Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that.”

“Yes! Yes, I want to dance with you,” Oikawa breathed out feebly, every syllable dripping with want and need.

Iwaizumi pushed back from the wall and gave Oikawa a satisfied smile. “Then let’s go.”

He must have known Oikawa was incapable of movement or thought, because he reached down and took Oikawa’s hand in his before leading him to the dancefloor.

Oikawa was existing purely in a state of shock, hardly able to believe the series of recent events. It all seemed both too fast and such a long time coming. But the alcohol swimming in his system was loosening his limbs and relaxing his muscles – well, most of them – and heightening all his senses. Or perhaps that last one was due to the firm grip of Iwaizumi’s hand around his and the remnants of Iwaizumi’s tongue and teeth on his ear.

But when Iwaizumi stopped in the middle of the dancefloor, turned Oikawa around and pulled his hips back onto his, all those heightened senses zeroed in on only that point of contact.

Iwaizumi’s hands started moving Oikawa’s hips to a beat he hadn’t fully been conscious of until that very moment, until it became physical in a way it hadn’t been before.

When Oikawa still hadn’t moved independently after a good half a minute – his brain still trying to catch up with his body – Iwaizumi chuckled and said into his ear, “Don’t think. Just move your body.”

So Oikawa closed his eyes, switched off his brain and just _felt_ – the hands on his hips, the chest against his back, the breath against his neck, the hips moving in sync with his own. And as Oikawa felt he devoted himself entirely to that moment, sunk down into the motion, moved as one with the man he loved.

He didn’t know how long they moved their bodies like that, but eventually he became aware of Iwaizumi’s lips on his neck, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses across every inch of skin his mouth could reach. When Iwaizumi nipped lightly at him, Oikawa sighed with pleasure and raised his hand behind him to run his fingers through Iwaizumi’s hair.

Iwaizumi hummed against his neck in approval before biting down hard the moment his hips shifted to the beat, causing Oikawa to gasp and fist his hand in Iwaizumi’s hair in reaction. Iwaizumi used his tongue to sooth the irritated skin and Oikawa dropped his head back against Iwaizumi’s shoulder, exposing more of himself for Iwaizumi’s ministrations.

One of Iwaizumi’s hands left Oikawa’s hips to slide across his lower stomach, reaching under his sweater to finger at the skin just above the waistband of Oikawa’s jeans – jeans that were feeling far too tight. The other hand took a different path, travelled excruciatingly lower and lower over his jeans until Iwaizumi used it to boldly palm Oikawa’s insistent erection.

Oikawa inhaled sharply at the contact but before his hips could strain forward for stimulation against Iwaizumi’s hand, Iwaizumi spun Oikawa around so their groins were in direct contact. Iwaizumi smirked when Oikawa groaned at the exquisite pressure, though he too was not unaffected by the contact if the hard length pressed against Oikawa’s was any indication.

And even if Oikawa’s overactive brain had been so inclined to try to make sense of the unfamiliar and unexpected situation – of the fact that he had his groin pressed firmly against his childhood best friend’s while they were both aroused – it never got its chance as Iwaizumi dropped his hands onto Oikawa’s hips and started grinding against him once more.

Oikawa hissed with pleasure and reflexively gripped onto the back of Iwaizumi’s tank, twisting the material in his fists as he struggled to deal with a level of arousal he’d never experienced before; pulled Iwaizumi’s chest against his, so tightly he could feel the rise and fall of it as they breathed as one.

Iwaizumi’s grunted at the contact and dropped his forehead onto Oikawa’s shoulder before snaking his arms around Oikawa’s waist, dipping his fingers inside the top of Oikawa’s jeans. His fingers trailed over the skin there – teasing him, promising him – before resting assertively on the skin of Oikawa’s hips. Then Iwaizumi dug his fingers into the skin there, directing the movement of Oikawa’s hips purposefully.

Iwaizumi’s strong hold was welcome but unnecessary – an alien race could have invaded earth at that very moment and it still wouldn’t have been enough to tempt Oikawa to leave the circle of Iwaizumi’s arms, to separate himself from him, to cease the movement of their tangled bodies.

Oikawa, never satisfied with being outdone in anything, dropped his head down so his lips met the side of Iwaizumi’s tanned neck. He gave the skin there a decisive swipe with his tongue, finally getting to taste the sweat that had first teased him hours ago. It tasted so undeniably _Iwaizumi_ – of years spent together practicing volleyball until every inch of their bodies were coated in perspiration, of summers spent sharing icy poles in an attempt to deal with the stifling heat, of the history of them – that Oikawa immediately decided he needed more. So he sucked Iwaizumi’s skin, trying to draw out more of his taste, more of _him_.

Iwaizumi moaned against Oikawa’s nape, turned his face to nip at Oikawa’s ear. Apparently ears were one of Oikawa’s previously undiscovered erogenous zones because the sharp pain made Oikawa moan loudly.

Iwaizumi’s hips stopped moving and he grabbed Oikawa’s face in his strong hands, lifting it up so their foreheads pressed against each other, so their eyes looked directly into the other’s. It was far from the first time they’d pressed their foreheads together like this, but it _was_ the first time it was for a reason other than comfort and support. It was the first time the air around and between them electrified with the promise of something more.

They stared at each other in wonder and awe, standing still in the middle of a mass of writhing bodies, and Oikawa saw in Iwaizumi’s eyes everything he knew was present in his own. Oikawa laid bare all he felt for Iwaizumi in that gaze – all the longing, all the want, all the need, all the _love_ – and received it in equals measures from the depths of Iwaizumi’s eyes.

Eyes that he’d looked into more times than he could possibly count, that had been his safe place and his anchor for the majority of his life. Eyes that belonged to a face that was more dear and more beautiful to him than he could possibly quantify. Eyes that dropped down to Oikawa’s lips. Eyes full of desire. Eyes that _wanted_ him.

Oikawa wasn’t sure which one of them closed the gap between their lips first. Perhaps they’d both surged forward together, which would make sense because he and Iwaizumi did everything together. Why would this be any different? Especially this, especially the moment their lips touched for the first time in affirmation of everything they were to each other.

Oikawa’s hands abandoned their death grip on Iwaizumi’s tank to grasp Iwaizumi’s head, to bring Iwaizumi’s lips back against his the second they parted for air. Their mouths opened automatically, their tongues sliding against each other, as they met for a second, third, fourth time. Innumerable kisses blended together as their mouths ate hungrily at each other, devouring and tasting and giving and taking.

Pleasure became the cornerstone of Oikawa’s existence and there was nothing more he wanted than to stay in this moment, preserve its perfection, because surely it couldn’t get better than it already was. Or so he thought until Iwaizumi gripped Oikawa’s hips once more and started moving them to the beat again, circling them against his own without breaking the motion of their mouths.

Time ceased to affect them as they moved their bodies to the music, their hands roaming, their mouths consuming. And eventually what Oikawa thought would be enough wasn’t any longer. His curiosity, initially satiated, raised its head once more, demanded _more_. It wanted to know _everything_ , feel _everything_.

Oikawa slid his hands under Iwaizumi’s tank, roamed the hard, smooth expanses of his skin, but it wasn’t enough. Oikawa wanted it _off_ , wanted more skin against skin, wanted to explore it with his mouth and not just his hands. He wanted to see Iwaizumi completely bared to his gaze, look at him with eyes heavy with lust as he catalogued every dip and curve of him. So he could run his tongue over the scars Oikawa knew were scattered across him, most of them received in Oikawa’s company, each a story Oikawa was a part of, proving to Iwaizumi – and perhaps himself – that Oikawa knew him best, that only Oikawa could truly know him. Just as only Iwaizumi could truly know Oikawa.

“ _More_ , Iwa-chan,” Oikawa pleaded against Iwaizumi’s lips. “I want more.”

Iwaizumi bit Oikawa’s bottom lip, dragged it out between his teeth, kissed it better. “You sure?”

“Yes,” Oikawa moaned. He wanted Iwaizumi to bite him all over, feel the exquisite mix of pain and pleasure all of his body.

Iwaizumi took Oikawa’s face in his hands once again and captured his eyes, expression serious. “Are you sure, Tooru? Because if you leave here with me I’m going to take you back to my place and I’m going to fuck you.”

Oikawa trembled, from Iwaizumi’s use of his first name, from the promise of his words, from what that meant – connection to Iwaizumi in every way. Oikawa couldn’t think of anything else he wanted, of any reason to fear. He trusted Iwaizumi in every way, trusted him to take care of Oikawa like he always had, trusted him to make it good, make it everything Oikawa needed.

“I’m sure, Hajime,” Oikawa responded with equal gravitas, so Iwaizumi knew he was taking this seriously. That it may seem impulsive but that he knew what he was doing, knew what he wanted – now and for as long as Iwaizumi would have him. That this development had already taken too long to eventuate, that he wasn’t going to waste more time asking questions he already knew the answers to. That he _was_ sure, because how could he possibly be anything less than certain when it was Iwaizumi? All that mattered was that Iwaizumi wanted him in return, and he _did_. Somehow – for some reason Oikawa would never question, would never begin to know the answer to – he did.

Iwaizumi smashed his lips against Oikawa’s hard and fast before entwining their fingers together and dragging Oikawa off the dancefloor. Iwaizumi had always had a bad habit of dragging Oikawa places – mostly to practice and games when he’d been intercepted by his fans – but if from now on the place Iwaizumi was dragging him to was his bed to have sex with him…well, Oikawa was 100% down with that. In fact, he’d probably now be the one always offering up his hand for the taking and his body for the dragging.

At some point on their way towards the stairs Oikawa could have sworn he saw Kuroo in the distance, laughing with a group of guys. He also could have sworn the ridiculous Chicken Head winked at him – _winked_ – and gave him a thumbs up, ever-present cat’s grin on his stupid face, but Oikawa decided not to think too closely about it because he didn’t want his good mood ruined.

Once they had climbed the stairs, taking two at a time in their eagerness to be reach their destination, Iwaizumi set a world record with how quickly he retrieved his hoodie from his locker. He let go of Oikawa’s hand to put it on, making Oikawa pout because now he was allowed to touch Iwaizumi like that – now he _wanted_ to – he wasn’t okay with stopping.

“Iwa-chan, if you put that ugly hoodie back on I may not want to sleep with you anymore,” Oikawa warned.

Iwaizumi huffed out a surprised laugh before he pointedly looked Oikawa up and down, silently saying _and you’re one to talk?_

Oikawa wrinkled his nose. “Whatever, Iwa-chan. I know you secretly love my glasses.”

Iwaizumi’s amused grin turned dark and he stepped closer to Oikawa. “Oh I _do_ ,” he said in a low voice. “So you’re going to keep them on when I fuck you.”

Oikawa’s breath exited him in a single exhale, leaving him feeling weak at the knees. Iwaizumi’s lips curled into a triumphant smirk and he grabbed Oikawa’s hand, leading him out the door. And he hadn’t put his hoodie back on. Oikawa grinned.

Iwaizumi quickly hailed a taxi, the driver of which didn’t seem at all phased by the fact that two men were holding hands leaving a gay club as Iwaizumi rattled off his address. Which made sense, Oikawa supposed, considering they were in ni-chome.

They climbed into the back seat, Oikawa first, so he frowned when Iwaizumi climbed in behind him and sat all the way on the other side of the backseat. Which wasn’t going to work – Oikawa wanted to touch him and he couldn’t do that when Iwaizumi was so far away.

“Iwa-chan.”

“What?” Iwaizumi replied shortly, not looking at him.

“Sit closer,” Oikawa demanded.

“No.”

Oikawa’s frown deepened. “Why not?”

“Because I know you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa protested, extremely put out.

This time Iwaizumi did look at him. “It means I know _exactly_ you’re planning and the answer’s no. We’re in a taxi. You should have at least that much self-awareness.”

Oikawa thought about it as Iwaizumi looked out the window again and decided that no, he didn’t. He wanted to touch Iwaizumi and he wanted to do it now.

“Iwa-chan.”

“What?”

“I’m cold.”

Iwaizumi looked at him again. “ _You’re_ cold. The guy who said I couldn’t put my hoodie on is cold.”

Oikawa smiled at him innocently. “I never said you couldn’t, Iwa-chan. I just said you _shouldn’t_.”

Iwaizumi narrowed his eyes at him threateningly. “I’m going to punch you.”

Oikawa’s smile didn’t waver. “You have to sit closer to do that.”

Iwaizumi groaned out an _oh my god_.

Oikawa ignored him. “Iwa-chan.”

“What?” Iwaizumi ground out between clenched teeth.

“You look cold.”

“Yeah, no _shit_ ,” Iwaizumi growled.

“Iwa-chan.”

“ _What_?”

“Did you know that sharing body heat can help raise your body temperature?”

Iwaizumi glared at him. “So can annoyance, so I’m good thanks.”

Oikawa’s widened his eyes, paired it with a hurt frown and waited. It only took approximately 20 seconds. A new record.

“Jesus, _fine_ ,” Iwaizumi grumbled and lifted his arm up. “Come over here then.”

Oikawa beamed and scooted across the backseat, happily fitting himself under Iwaizumi’s arm and resting his head on his shoulder. His _sweaty_ shoulder. _Perfect_ , Oikawa thought with a small smile.

But Iwaizumi momentarily distracted Oikawa from his goal when he took one of Oikawa’s hands in his and absentmindedly started playing with his fingers. Then he added an extra layer of distraction by kissing the top of Oikawa’s head and running his nose through his hair. Oikawa couldn’t help but sigh and sink into the gentle ministrations, allowing himself a few moments to bask in Iwaizumi’s affection.

And normally Oikawa would have been happy to stay like that as long as he was allowed, but Iwaizumi was still only in that damn tank top and his skin still had a fine layer of sweat coating it and it was _right there_. So really, what else was Oikawa _supposed_ to do but lick it?

Iwaizumi made a valiant effort at ignoring him, though, so Oikawa bit him. Iwaizumi gasped and Oikawa smirked against his skin before his tongue resumed its previous exploration.

“I fucking _knew_ it.” It sounded as though Iwaizumi had attempted an annoyed tone, but it came out as a moan instead.

Oikawa ignored Iwaizumi’s words in favour of his neck, using his lips and tongue to trace up the side of it until he reached Iwaizumi’s ear. Which he promptly bit, because he figured it was time to return that particular favour.

A growling sound rumbled from deep in Iwaizumi’s chest and he gripped the back of Oikawa’s hair in his fist, roughly pulling Oikawa's lips off him so he could look at him squarely. Heat flared low in Oikawa’s stomach at the feeling of being manhandled, at the dull tug against his scalp. _I could get used to that_ , he thought as he breathed heavily into the air between them.

“You are such trash,” Iwaizumi stated, tone caught between frustration and arousal.

Oikawa smiled slyly and moved their conjoined hands down. Sure enough, Iwaizumi was hard as a rock under the seam of his black jeans. Iwaizumi moaned low and deep at the contact and Oikawa grinned smugly. “Then you must _really_ like trash, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi tugged at Oikawa’s hair again in reprimand and the smile promptly fell off Oikawa's face as arousal spiked his pulse. “You are the _worst_ ,” he said emphatically and Oikawa opened his mouth to respond but never got the chance as Iwaizumi sealed Oikawa’s lips with his own, his tongue invading the cavern of Oikawa’s mouth.

And this time there was no build up, no cautious exploration. This time the way they kissed each other bordered on violence, their lips bruising, fingernails leaving marks on skin. And it was both all too much and not nearly enough, so Oikawa sat up and threw his leg over Iwaizumi’s lap, straddling him.

Iwaizumi dug his hands into Oikawa’s ass hard and pulled him down, simultaneously lifting his hips to give Oikawa the movement he’d been quite literally aching for. Oikawa cursed every piece of clothing between them, cursed the thick, inflexible material of their jeans. But Oikawa was known for being able to work with whatever he was given, so he ground down enthusiastically, Iwaizumi’s hands on his ass and teeth in his neck urging him on. And if the taxi driver turned the radio up to mask the sounds of their desire, Oikawa didn’t really notice or care.

He _did_ , however, notice when they eventually reached their destination, but only because the music suddenly shut off completely and Iwaizumi abruptly pushed Oikawa off him. Oikawa tapped his foot impatiently as Iwaizumi dug his wallet out of his jeans and handed some cash over. He was extremely glad Iwaizumi told the driver not to bother with the change, maybe to save precious seconds, but more likely as an apology for making him witness what he did and as a thank you for not making them stop.

Which was a good thing for all of them, because if the driver had tried to make them stop Oikawa probably would have pushed him out of the taxi and driven them back himself. Or made Iwaizumi drive them back, because Oikawa didn’t have his license and then Oikawa could touch him without impediment.

He’d _definitely_ have to try that sometime. He’d heard road head was quite the experience, and while he’d always assumed he’d be on the receiving end of that someday…well, the idea of doing that to Iwaizumi – making him curse and moan as he struggled to concentrate on the road – sent fire racing all over his body.

Iwaizumi quickly ushered him into the elevator of his apartment building. Noting they were blessedly alone, sexual tension thick in the enclosed space, Oikawa looked at Iwaizumi and said, “I’m going to give you road head one day.”

Iwaizumi spluttered in shock and turned red. And of course Oikawa laughed at his distress, because making Iwaizumi lost for words had always been one of his favourite things to do.

But Iwaizumi recovered far too quickly this time, shaking his head in disbelief before looking at Oikawa with a raised eyebrow. “Do I even want to know where that came from?”

Oikawa considered that. “Probably not.”

“And do you even know _how_ to give head?” Iwaizumi questioned dubiously.

Oikawa shrugged casually. “No, but I’ll figure it out.”

At that, Iwaizumi flashed him a grin full of promise. “Or maybe I can just show you how it’s done.”

Then it was Oikawa’s turn to splutter in shock and turn red as the elevator pinged its arrival at Iwaizumi’s floor.

Oikawa’s brain was turning over and over, thinking of things he could do to one-up Iwaizumi but in this situation he was unfortunately at a disadvantage, having never attempted anything remotely like it before. He supposed he’d just have to soak up as much information as possible from this experience and turn that knowledge back on Iwaizumi at the next possible opportunity. He felt a wild desire to watch Iwaizumi completely unravel beneath him.

Iwaizumi made quick work of the door to his studio apartment and once they were inside he confidently removed his shoes and walked towards his desk, leaving the main light off but switching the desk lamp on. Oikawa was grateful for the relative darkness as he slowly removed his shoes, entirely unsure of what he was supposed to do now they were finally here.

He was used to being the one in the lead, the one directing the action. But this time it made sense for the one who actually knew what they were doing to determine the next step, so Oikawa waited silently by the door and watched with a rabid gaze as Iwaizumi turned around to face Oikawa and stripped off his tank. Then, eyes never leaving Oikawa’s, he undid the top two buttons of his jeans, displaying the ridge of his hard length that strained his underwear.

Oikawa sucked in a breath and held it as he waited for Iwaizumi to pull the jeans down completely, to expose the muscled thighs Oikawa knew waited beneath all that dark denim, but he never did. Instead, he walked towards Oikawa, stopping a mere two feet away.

“Take that off,” Iwaizumi ordered, nodding at Oikawa’s knit sweater.

Oikawa obeyed the demand without a second thought, or even a first one. He let the knit drop to the floor by his feet and waited for his next instruction with baited breath, anticipation restricting his lungs.

“ _And_ that,” Iwaizumi added, looking at Oikawa’s plain white t-shirt. Oikawa obeyed once more, welcoming the feel of the cool night air on his heated flesh.

Iwaizumi stepped closer until his body whispered against Oikawa’s, almost close enough to touch but not quite. Oikawa trembled as his body strained to feel Iwaizumi’s skin against his, but Iwaizumi stayed just out of reach.

Oikawa was wondering just how much more of it he could take when Iwaizumi leaned forward as if to kiss him, but stopped just short of his lips instead. Oikawa closed his eyes and groaned, desperation shredding to pieces any remaining plans to take back control of the situation. His shallow breaths turned into heaving pants when Iwaizumi trailed a single finger down Oikawa’s chest, circling around his nipple once before dropping lower, tracing the dips and rises of his abdomen.

Oikawa knew he was visibly shaking with desire now, his stomach contracting at Iwaizumi’s touch, but hell if he cared. He’d never been so turned on in his whole damn life and Iwaizumi was barely even touching him.

 _I never thought he’d be such a fucking tease_ , Oikawa thought as Iwaizumi’s finger dipped into the waistline of his jeans. It traced the edge until it reached the top button. Iwaizumi hooked his finger behind it and tugged.

“Want me to take these off for you, Tooru?” Iwaizumi asked, voice deep and smooth.

“ _Yes_ ,” Oikawa groaned. He’d never wanted anything so badly in his entire life. Those damn jeans were restricting his erection, making it ache and throb in time with his rapid pulse.

“Alright then,” Iwaizumi replied against Oikawa’s lips, brushing them lightly as he undid the button and zip. Before Oikawa was able to hungrily kiss him back, Iwaizumi suddenly dropped to his knees, taking Oikawa’s jeans and underwear with him.

Oikawa yelped as his cock sprang free of its confines and slapped against his stomach. “I-I-Iwa-chan, what are you doing?”

Iwaizumi grinned up at Oikawa from his knees, mouth mere centimetres from his dick. “Showing you how it’s done.”

And then Oikawa was granted his earlier wish of wanting to see his best friend perform a blow job on him when Iwaizumi took Oikawa’s dick in his hand, directed it towards his waiting lips and swallowed it whole, jaw slack and cheeks hollowed as he licked and sucked up and down Oikawa’s length.

Oikawa lost all ability to breath or stand, collapsing against the door behind him as Iwaizumi tongued his slit, eyes never leaving Oikawa’s. There was a lot to be said for guys giving other guys blow jobs, because damn, Iwaizumi seemed to know exactly how much pressure with which to suck and where to lick and how often and how hard to grip him with his hand.

And Oikawa’s hips couldn’t help but surge forward restlessly, seeking more of the hot wetness of Iwaizumi’s mouth. Iwaizumi reached behind Oikawa and grasped his ass, squeezing it as he controlled the tempo of Oikawa's ruthlessly fucking of his mouth. Oikawa anchored his hands in Iwaizumi’s hair, mouth open in speechless desire as Iwaizumi moved him faster still.

It was when Oikawa started hitting the back of Iwaizumi’s throat that the pressure that had been steadily building threatened to release. Oikawa bit his lip hard in an attempt to stave off the inevitable climax. When that didn’t work, he tried to slow the movement of his hips, but Iwaizumi wouldn’t let him, gripped his ass tighter and sucked his dick harder. And that was about as much as Oikawa could possibly be expected to withstand.

“I-Iwa…ah… _Hajime_ I’m…ah…” and that was all the warning Iwaizumi was going to get because, “ _ah_!”

Oikawa closed his eyes and clenched his jaw as he came hard into Iwaizumi’s mouth, as Iwaizumi swallowed every last drop.

Oikawa released Iwaizumi’s hair and ran a hand through his own, attempting to calm his pounding pulse, to regulate his breathing, to just _recover_ from the most intense orgasm of his life.

Iwaizumi stood up in front of Oikawa with a smirk on his face and licked at his bottom lip. “You taste even better than I thought you would.”

Surely there was no way Iwaizumi expected Oikawa to be able to respond to _that_ with more than a wheezing exhale – _surely_.

Apparently not, because Iwaizumi only smiled at Oikawa fondly before taking his hand and leading him forward. Oikawa stepped out of the clothes pooled at his feet, not even caring that he was now completely naked except for his glasses, and followed wordlessly. He didn’t even try to imagine what Iwaizumi had in store for him next but assumed it’d have _something_ to do with the bed by the back window.

So it was with a jolt of surprise that Oikawa found himself bent over the back of Iwaizumi’s couch, ass pushed out in the air.

“Just as I thought – this couch _is_ the perfect height for you,” Iwaizumi’s voice came from behind him, sounding pleased.

Oikawa was feeling decidedly exposed and extremely sensitive thanks to his recent orgasm, so was about to question what the hell Iwaizumi thought he was doing. Sure, he was down for fucking – and had known from the very beginning that he was the one who’d be bottoming that evening – but he didn’t really want his first go at anal sex to be over the back of a couch, bent over double, chest pressing into the top of the couch’s backrest, hands gripping the cushions of the seat. He’d at least expected to be on Iwaizumi’s nice, soft bed, preferably with Iwaizumi’s weight on top of him. Then again, it’s not like he knew a thing about mechanics of it all. Maybe this was the only way to do it? If so, he wasn’t sure it was exactly to his liking. He was about ask Iwaizumi to clarify, but Iwaizumi spoke before he could.

“Hold on tight,” he warned darkly before Oikawa heard him drop to his knees once again.

Now Oikawa was thoroughly confused because what could Iwaizumi possibly achieve from down there? He’d already sucked him off once and Oikawa didn’t think his dick could handle a second round of _that_. Besides, the only thing back there was his ass and…

“Oh _. Ohhhhhhh._ ”

And Iwaizumi spread his ass wide and licked across Oikawa’s entrance. And then he did it again. And again. And just kept going. And then he stuck his tongue in. And then pulled it out. And then stuck it in again. And again. And just kept going.

And Oikawa didn’t even recognise the sounds leaving his mouth. Something of a mixture of whimpers and choking noises and short, sharp _ah_ ’s and a whole host of other sounds he hadn’t know he had the ability to make.  

Iwaizumi ate his ass like he was worshipping and Oikawa was his religion. Oikawa didn’t know what the _hell_ he was supposed to do, if anything. All he _could_ do was hold on for dear fucking life and send up a prayer to whatever god existed that he would survive this.

Because _holy_ _shit_ , it was like nothing he’d ever felt before. And he realised he’d thought that multiple times over the course of the evening, but he knew then and there that he’d be thinking it even more. Because this wasn’t even the main event.

 _I’m not going to survive tonight, am I?_ Everyone had better say nice things about him at his funeral, otherwise he was going to come back and haunt them all. Well, maybe not _all_ of them because ghosts weren’t omnipresent. So he’d haunt Iwaizumi for being the cause of his death in the first place. And also Tobio-chan, because then he could mess up all his tosses and Tobio-chan wouldn’t know what the fuck was going on and it’d be amazing.

Though not as amazing as Iwaizumi tongue-fucking his asshole, so he hoped he managed to pull through after all. He was, however, feeling decidedly light-headed and weak at the knees and his heart felt like it was pounding far harder than was healthy, so he was about to tell Iwaizumi that he needed a time out.

But it was like Iwaizumi read his mind, because he summarily rejected that idea by sliding a finger into Oikawa’s ass alongside his tongue.

“Whoa! Okay!” He had _not_ been expecting that. Then again, maybe that was the whole idea because now that it was in…well, it didn’t feel so bad. Weird, but not bad. And there was still Iwaizumi’s tongue to contend with, which felt decidedly _good_. And his brand new erection showed no signs of leaving, so there was that.

All in all, Oikawa decided he was okay with the finger. So he relaxed a little, released the tension in the muscles that had seized up at the sudden intrusion, and began to accustom himself to it. Then Iwaizumi ruined all his progress when he curled his finger and hit this spot that made Oikawa’s whole body lurch forward.

“Ah!” Oikawa exclaimed as something that felt a bit like pleasure but also something more shot through his entire body, sharp as a knife. “What the fuck was _that_?”

“Something good,” Iwaizumi mumbled against his skin.

Oikawa considered that statement. Now that the shock of it had worn off, he supposed it _had_ felt pretty damn good.

“Do it again,” he demanded.

Iwaizumi slapped his ass lightly. “Stop backseat driving.”

Oikawa had to smile at that one, because, “I think in this situation, _you’re_ technically the one – ah!”

Iwaizumi had done it again and even though Oikawa was more prepared for it this time, the pleasure – or whatever the hell it was – still shot through his body like a jolt of electricity. He liked it. He liked it a lot.

“Would doing that feel even better if you used two fingers?” Oikawa asked curiously.

Iwaizumi huffed out a laugh that Oikawa felt against his ass, which was new. “I dunno, want to find out?”

“Yes, please,” Oikawa replied enthusiastically, so he was confused when Iwaizumi withdrew his finger and mouth and stood up. And he’d been so polite, too.

“Let’s head over to the bed then,” Iwaizumi said.

Oikawa looked back at him, puzzled. “We’re not doing it all here?”

Iwaizumi’s brows creased in confusion. “Do you _want_ to do it all here?”

“No, not particularly.”

Iwaizumi shook his head in frustration. “Then what’s the problem, dumbass? Come on already.” He held out his hand towards Oikawa.

Oikawa, too relieved they were actually going to use the bed to scold Iwaizumi for being mean, straightened himself and took Iwaizumi’s hand.

“Walking feels weird. I’m all loose,” Oikawa observed as they walked, trying to make sense of the weird sensation.

Iwaizumi chuckled as they reached the bed. “Yeah, that’s the general idea,” Iwaizumi replied as he picked up the folded towel at the bottom of the bed and spread it out. “Now shut up and get on your back, knees raised, before it tightens up again,” Iwaizumi instructed. “I worked hard to get it like that.”

Oikawa laughed as he climbed onto the bed. “Yes, you did. Well done, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi snorted as he opened the drawer of his bedside table, withdrawing a bottle of lube and a condom. “What are you, my boss?”

“I’ll give you a full performance review after,” Oikawa teased, hands behind his head as he watched Iwaizumi, who rolled his eyes at him.

“As if you won’t pass out the second we finish,” he drawled and went to kneel on the bed.

“Iwa-chan, why am I the only one who’s naked?” Oikawa observed with a frown. “That hardly seems fair.”

Iwaizumi raised an eyebrow at him. “One, because I was kneeling on hard surfaces. Doing that naked would be bad for my knees.”

“So practical, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa murmured.

Iwaizumi ignored him in favour of grinning darkly. “Two, because sucking you off and eating you out got me so hard I needed something to restrict my erection in case I accidently blew my load.”

Oikawa gulped. “I…I see.”

“But I guess I don’t need to worry about that anymore, do I?” Iwaizumi continued as he quickly pulled down and stepped out of his jeans and underwear.

Oikawa raked his gaze hungrily over Iwaizumi’s naked form as he kneeled on the bed between Oikawa’s spread thighs, consuming every inch of it with his eyes. He wanted to explore it just as thoroughly with his hands and lips and tongue and teeth, but Iwaizumi had different ideas.

He coated two fingers with a liberal amount of lube and used them to circle Oikawa’s entrance, testing it. Oikawa gripped the pillow underneath his head as he watching Iwaizumi look at his ass intently, deep in concentration. It was the first time since they’d gotten back to the apartment that Oikawa had an opportunity to just watch him, and he took full advantage of it because he knew before long he’d be incapable of such concentration.

Sure enough, the moment Iwaizumi slowly pushed two fingers inside him his eyes snapped shut and his back arched off the bed and his mouth gaped.

“ _Jesus_.”

Iwaizumi looked up at him as he wiggled his fingers inside. “Doing okay?”

Oikawa swallowed deeply and only managed a nod before Iwaizumi curled his fingers against that spot again, making Oikawa start violently.

“So, is it better?” Iwaizumi asked teasingly.

Oikawa thought about it as hard as he could, given the circumstances. “You know; I think it is.” Then he grinned slyly. “How about with three?”

Iwaizumi laughed. “Don’t be impatient, we’ll get to three.”

Oikawa frowned, because this all seemed to be taking too long already.

Iwaizumi laughed again. “Don’t look at me like that, Assikawa. It’s for your own good.”

Oikawa wrinkled his nose. “Fitting choice of insult, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi grinned at him. “Isn’t it, though.” Then he scissored his fingers outward at the rim. Oikawa hissed out a breath, but he wasn’t sure if it was in pleasure or pain or both.

“Well, you’re loosening up faster than expected,” Iwaizumi observed as he scissored his fingers again and again while moving the fingers in and out. “I guess you’re just a natural at this, Tooru.”

Oikawa threw an arm over his head as he panted through the pleasure and pain, lurching every time Iwaizumi brushed against that spot. “Say that _after_ you put your dick in.”

“True,” Iwaizumi conceded before squeezing even more lube onto Oikawa’s entrance and his free hand, which had previously been keeping Oikawa’s knees open wide. Then he gripped Oikawa’s dick and gave it one firm stroke at the same moment he pushed a third finger in.

Oikawa writhed on the bed and made a noise somewhere between a moan and a groan as Iwaizumi’s fingers stretched him wide, and as the friction on his cock converted any pain into intense pleasure.

“ _Hajime_ ,” Oikawa moaned as Iwaizumi brushed over that spot again and again. He had long since grown accustomed to the intrusion, but now the feeling of being stretched out from the inside started shooting jolts of heat up and down his spine. And with the added stimulation of Iwaizumi’s hand stroking his dick, he didn’t know how much more of it he could take before he found himself coming again.

He opened his eyes to look at Iwaizumi, who was staring at Oikawa’s face intently and breathing hard. “Hajime, I’m ready. I want you inside me.”

Iwaizumi gulped. “Are you sure, Tooru?”

Oikawa nodded insistently, because he was really, _really_ sure. Because the feeling of Iwaizumi’s fingers inside him made him wonder just how much better it would be to have _Iwaizumi_ inside him, to be able to give back as much pleasure as he was currently taking.

Iwaizumi nodded solemnly and withdrew his fingers before picking up the condom packet by his knees and ripping it open with his teeth. Oikawa watched impatiently as he rolled it on and poured more lube onto it, inhaled an anticipatory breath as Iwaizumi lifted his hips to align himself with Oikawa’s entrance.

Iwaizumi looked up at Oikawa then, all seriousness and intent. “Just breath, okay? I’ll go slow.”

Oikawa smiled fondly at him, love constricting his chest because Iwaizumi had no care for himself, no thought for his own pleasure. His entire being was focused solely on Oikawa, on how _he_ felt. Any pleasure Iwaizumi got out of this would just be a bonus to him, which didn’t sit well with Oikawa at all. He wanted to make Iwaizumi look and sound and feel like he’d made Oikawa look and sound and feel, because Iwaizumi deserved all of that and more.

“I trust you, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa reassured him. Iwaizumi smiled gratefully before looking down to concentrate on breaching Oikawa’s entrance.

The initial stretch as Iwaizumi’s cockhead pushed past the rim burned enough that tears sprang into Oikawa’s eyes, but he quickly blinked them away because he didn’t want Iwaizumi to stop no matter what. He tried to focus on his breathing, on relaxing his muscles, but thinking about it just made him tense up more. So he instead focused on Iwaizumi’s face, on the look on intense pleasure present in every feature as he slowly pushed further into Oikawa’s heat.

And then the pain was secondary, hardly even registered, because the knowledge that Iwaizumi was _inside_ him – a part of him now in a very physical way – was everything, meant everything to him. He felt connected to Iwaizumi in a way he hadn’t thought possible and of all things he’d experienced in his life up to and including that very evening, this was the very best thing. 

Iwaizumi let out a long, low moan when he was finally fully seated inside Oikawa, his every muscle tensed as he held still, as he waited for Oikawa to familiarize himself with the girth of him. Oikawa shifted experimentally around Iwaizumi’s hard length inside him, in awe at the way it made him feel so filled up inside. 

Iwaizumi’s eyes were scrunched shut in concentration and that wouldn’t do, so Oikawa got his attention. “Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi’s eyes flew open. “Yes?”

“Is it even better with a dick?” Oikawa questioned innocently.

“What?” Iwaizumi replied vacantly, completely lost.

Oikawa grinned cheekily. “That spot you rub. Does it feel even better with a dick?”

Iwaizumi laughed, the shaking of his body making his dick shift inside Oikawa, who reflexively clenched around it.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Iwaizumi moaned. “Want to find out?”

Oikawa clenched around him again, since it’d seemed to work so well the first time. “Yes, please.”

Iwaizumi’s hips surged snapped forwardly suddenly, making Oikawa gasp in pleasure and surprise. Even Iwaizumi seemed surprised by the sudden movement. He narrowed his eyes at Oikawa. “Keep doing that and this won’t last long.”

Oikawa tried to smile smugly at him, but it was hard to convey smugness when he was nothing but a puddle of lust. “Then you’d better get to it, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa challenged weakly. For both their sakes.

Iwaizumi leaned forward over Oikawa and looked down at him, bracing a hand beside his head. “If you insist,” he warned before he started thrusting his hips forward in rapid succession, each movement in and out of Oikawa’s body creating waves of pleasure that rippled over and through every inch of him.

Speech became an impossibility so Oikawa grabbed Iwaizumi’s face and pulled him down to kiss him instead. Their mouths crashed together again and again in time with Iwaizumi’s thrusts. Oikawa’s hips automatically surged up to meet Iwaizumi’s, creating a pounding rhythm similar to the one they’d had on the dancefloor.

It did feel like a form of dance, the most intimate kind; their bodies moving with and against the other’s, communicating in a way words couldn’t. Oikawa imbued everything he felt for Iwaizumi into the way he moved his body, into the way his hands wrapped around Iwaizumi’s back, into the way his fingernails left scratches down his skin, into the way his hips snapped up as Iwaizumi’s bore down, into the way his lips sought every inch of skin they could find.

Iwaizumi was holding onto Oikawa like he was drowning and Oikawa was the only thing keeping him afloat, like all he needed was everything Oikawa was. Their lips met messily, open against each other in desire so intense it was all they could do to keep their heads above the water.

Oikawa could feel the pressure building again, wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold it off, so it was with some relief that Iwaizumi gasped, “Tooru, I’m close…I can’t… _fuck_!”

Oikawa knew exactly how Iwaizumi felt. He didn’t want it to end, either, didn’t want the separation of their bodies that followed the climax, wanted to stop time so this moment could be preserved forever. But it was only if they allowed time to keep moving that they could do this again the next day. And the next. And the next. And as much as they wanted for the rest of their lives. And there were things Oikawa hadn’t experienced yet, so many things he wanted to discover with Iwaizumi, with the man he loved.

So he said, “Me too, Hajime. I can’t hold on anymore.”

Iwaizumi propped himself up on his hands and looked down at Oikawa, “Okay, you ready?”

Oikawa nodded eagerly. Was he ever. His dick was so hard he worried it may never fully go down again.

Iwaizumi sat back on his knees and placed Oikawa’s hand on his dick. “You take care of that,” he instructed before gripping Oikawa’s hips in his hands, lifting him higher. Then he fucked into him without restraint, tilting his forceful thrusts upwards so he slammed against that spot over and over again.

Oikawa hadn’t stood a chance of lasting more than 10 seconds, so intense was the pleasure that it bordered on painful. In fact, he was surprised he’d lasted even that long. Oikawa squeezed his eyes shut, opened his mouth and arched his back as his cock erupted violently, spurting cum all over his chest and cheeks.

He flopped back down onto the bed, all energy completely spent as his body trembled with aftershocks, and opened his eyes to see Iwaizumi looking at him with an expression Oikawa couldn’t even begin to define.

The second their eyes met Iwaizumi’s hips stuttered, and Oikawa was glad he’d come first so he could watch the wonder that was Iwaizumi climaxing.

Every muscle tensed and flexed, his jaw clenched so hard it looked painful, his eyes squeezed shut and he threw his head back, the tendons in his neck standing out in sharp relief. If Oikawa ever had to choose only one thing to see for the rest of his life, _that_ would be it.

Iwaizumi slowly relaxed as his climax ended, sighing in relief and opening his eyes to grace Oikawa with a crooked grin.

Oikawa’s chest filled with so much love he wasn’t quite sure what to do with it. Oikawa looked at Iwaizumi as it all threatened to spill out of his eyes. He couldn’t believe how much he loved this man, so much it was almost a physical pain.

Iwaizumi slowly withdrew from Oikawa and tied off the condom before throwing it in the bin next to the bed.

“Lift up,” he instructed and Oikawa lifted his hips so Iwaizumi could take the lube-soaked towel out from under him.

“I’ll be back in a sec,” he promised as he got up and walked to bathroom.

Oikawa dropped his knees and crawled under the covers, cold now Iwaizumi’s body heat had left him. He took his glasses off and placed them on the bedside table, not even being able to manage a smile at the fact that Iwaizumi had managed to fuck him with them on like he’d said he would.

He threw his arms over his eyes as he struggled to reduce his emotions to a manageable level, to keep the tears from falling. Was this going to happen after every time they had sex? If so, he was going to have to tell Iwaizumi that he should always expect Oikawa to cry afterwards and that it wasn’t personal.

Well, it was. But in a good way.

He was abruptly startled out of his thoughts when a cold, wet cloth moved over his chest.

Oikawa lifted his arms up. “Iwa-chan?”

Iwaizumi cracked a grin at him as he carefully wiped at his chest. “Just cleaning you up. Unless you _want_ to sleep in your own cum tonight.”

Oikawa scrunched his nose up in displeasure. He certainly did _not_.

Iwaizumi laughed, “Thought so. Now turn here, I’ve got to clean your face.”

Oikawa obeyed and watched Iwaizumi as he tenderly cleaned Oikawa’s face. The amount of affection and care in his movements made it even harder for Oikawa to not cry.

Iwaizumi dropped the cloth beside the bed and pushed at Oikawa’s shoulder. “Move over, Trashykawa. I want to get in.”

Oikawa shifted over obediently, silently, watching as Iwaizumi climbed into the bed beside him. As soon as he was under the covers he lifted his arm and looked at Oikawa expectantly. Oikawa wordlessly curled against Iwaizumi’s side, resting his head on his chest.

Oikawa blinked rapidly, desperate not to let the tears out. He just wanted to lie there and bask in the comfort of Iwaizumi’s arms. But even the thought that they were _there_ , naked in bed together after being connected in such an intimate way, made him tear up even more.

“So?” Iwaizumi asked before the tears in Oikawa’s eyes had a chance to fall.

“So, what?” Oikawa sniffed.

“So where’s my performance review?” Iwaizumi asked slyly.

Oikawa hit his fist against Iwaizumi’s chest. “Not funny, Iwa-chan. I’m feeling very emotional right now. Be nice.”

Iwaizumi’s chest moved up and down with laughter. Then he shifted so Oikawa could see his smiling face in the moonlight. “Okay, then how’s this for nice?” His face grew serious. “I love you, Tooru.”

And then the floodgates truly opened because _honestly_.

Oikawa sobbed against Iwaizumi’s chest, hating every moment of it because he’d always been an ugly crier and if there was ever a moment he wanted to look pretty it was when the man he loved told him he loved him back.

Iwaizumi’s fingers wiped gently at Oikawa’s cheeks. “Stop crying already. You’re getting snot on me. It’s gross.”

“I-I-I can’t h-help it, I-Iwa-chan!” Oikawa sobbed harder. “I-I love you so much, I-I can’t…I…”

“Shhh, it’s okay. I know,” Iwaizumi said comfortingly and hugged Oikawa to him tightly, wrapped his arms around him like a vice. Oikawa couldn’t really breathe, but decided he didn’t need to breathe as long as he got to stay like this, safe and warm in Iwaizumi’s arms.

Oikawa slowly calmed down, tears running dry as sleep slowly crept up on him. He felt a vague stab of annoyance because Iwaizumi seemed far too unaffected by all of this, far too calm.

But just before sleep overtook his consciousness completely, he felt a wetness on his forehead that didn’t belong to him and realised that Iwaizumi had been crying too. And as he drifted off to sleep in Iwaizumi’s embrace, all the missing somethings that had been struggling to find where they belonged fell into place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so what was supposed to be a quick oneshot turned into ALL OF THIS and 3 days after starting it on a literal whim, I finally fucking finished. I blame Kuroo for being so amazing that he completely hijacked the whole middle portion of this chapter. It's the first time I've ever attempted to write Kuroo, so I might have gotten a little excited and, therefore, carried away. God, I love him. 
> 
> AND THEN what was supposed to be perhaps 5 pages of smut turned into 10 pages and the word count just kept climbing. Ah well, I got there in the end (and who could ever regret IwaOi smut? Not this fangirl).
> 
> Also, I wrote an epilogue thingy for their morning after just because I felt like making myself sick with IwaOi fluff. Plus I wanted a bit of Iwaizumi POV to balance Oikawa out, I guess! So thank you for making it this far and I hope you enjoy the epilogue, that it leaves you feeling all gooey inside!


	2. An Epilogue: The Morning After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prepare for an onslaught of fluff. Just a disgusting amount of it. I'm sorry/you're welcome.

A sharp, throbbing pain in his arm was what eventually woke Iwaizumi up, even though his body was insisting he could easily sleep for another few hours. Iwaizumi looked at the source of the pain – Oikawa’s big head resting on his bicep. Iwaizumi grinned as he took in the slack mouth and the drool running from the corner of it.

Iwaizumi had often told Oikawa he was as much of an ugly sleeper as he was a crier, but Oikawa had always refused to believe him. Iwaizumi longed to take a picture – both as proof and for his own personal use as, say, a screensaver – but his phone was with his jeans, somewhere on the floor too far away. And his intense lethargy wasn’t the only reason he didn’t want to move.

Last night seemed too surreal, more like a dream than reality, but his proof that it was all real was lying in bed with him. Naked. And he couldn’t attribute last night to alcohol-induced madness, because both he and Oikawa had almost completely sobered up by the time they’d reached his apartment.

Still, his mind struggled to comprehend that the guy he’d been in love with for about as long as he could remember actually loved him back. Sure, he hadn’t _known_ he was in love with Oikawa until the previous summer, when the thought of being apart from him to go to separate universities had been like a knife in his chest every waking moment. But looking back – yeah, he’d been in love with Oikawa for _much_ longer than that. He just hadn’t known how to define it. He’d always known that he considered Oikawa as much more than even a best friend, but he hadn’t known that what he had felt could be considered romantic love, hadn’t known it was normal for that to happen between two men.

He supposed he had Kuroo to thank for that, whose conversation opener had literally been: “So you’re gay, right?” He’d treated the whole thing so casually, like it was no big deal at all. So despite his best intentions Iwaizumi had eventually found himself telling Kuroo the whole thing, of his years of repressed and confusing emotions.

Of course, discovering he was both gay and in love with his best friend almost sent him into a depression. Being gay wasn’t generally socially accepted, so there was that to deal with. He’d had almost 20 years of prejudices and negative stereotyping to break before he’d even been able to accept himself. Fortunately, Kuroo had manipulated– though of course he still claimed it was merely ‘guided’ – Iwaizumi into going to gay bars and clubs and meeting some of Kuroo’s LGBTQIA friends. Finding out that there were so many people like him normalised the whole thing for him, made him realise it wasn’t wrong to be who he was.

Then there were his feelings for Oikawa, feelings he’d known would never be returned. Not ever. Because not only had he thought Oikawa was completely straight, he was _Oikawa_ _Tooru_. Fans literally stepped on each other in order to get his picture, he received at least a ton of chocolate on Valentine’s Day and twice that in love letters and gifts on any given day. If anything, Oikawa had too many choices of a romantic partner – so why would he want Iwaizumi, a _guy_? Sure, they had been best friends practically all their lives and had one of those rare connections that only occurred once or twice in someone’s life, if they were lucky. But Iwaizumi hadn’t expected Oikawa to view that connection the same way Iwaizumi did, view it romantically.

Then there was the fear that Oikawa would find out. Not about him being gay – Iwaizumi had always known Oikawa wouldn’t care about _that_ – but about Iwaizumi being in love with him. It would ruin their friendship, he’d thought. Sure, Oikawa – being Oikawa – would have grinned and bore it at first, told Iwaizumi it didn’t matter, that it didn’t affect him at all. But he would have slowly distanced himself, visited Iwaizumi less, mailed less and less frequently until one day the only time they’d see each other would be at matches and Iwaizumi would just be some guy Oikawa used to know.

And Iwaizumi had been so scared that if he allowed himself to be around Oikawa too much Oikawa would know, because Oikawa was far too observant, knew Iwaizumi far too well. So _he_ ended up being the one who’d started distancing himself. _He_ was the one who’d starting visiting less and only replied to mail every now and then.

Then in an attempt to deal with it all, to purge his feelings for Oikawa, he’d starting going out more and more often, getting wasted and fucking guys who all ended up looking like a lesser version of Oikawa anyway. It was after a few months of this behaviour that Kuroo had urged him to come out to Oikawa, had convinced him that if Oikawa hadn’t picked up on his homosexuality in all the years he’d known him, he was hardly going to pick up on the fact that Iwaizumi was in love with him. It was just outside his realm of possibility; so therefore he wouldn’t be looking for it. Or so Kuroo’s theory went.

Iwaizumi sighed. He supposed that technically he had Kuroo to thank for _this_ particularly development as well, because there was no doubt in his mind that the idea of sleeping with Iwaizumi hadn’t crossed Oikawa’s mind until some point during the previous night. And all Kuroo’s teasing had probably gotten Oikawa thinking and wondering. Then there was the way Kuroo had encouraged Iwaizumi to have a drink with the guy from last night, perhaps even a dance – what could it hurt, right? Or so he’d claimed, as sure and confident in his own advice as always. So Iwaizumi had gotten that drink and had that dance…and then he’d gotten a kiss or several, because he’d been feeling pretty bitter and spiteful, mistaking Oikawa’s confusion over his own burgeoning queerness as discomfort over Iwaizumi’s.

Iwaizumi had initially questioned Kuroo’s wisdom at all these points. Now he was never going to be able to question Kuroo again. And Kuroo would never let him forget it either. Iwaizumi could just picture that annoying ever-present smile condescending to him for the rest of his life and shuddered.

But then he looked down at the man drooling on his arm and smiled. Totally worth it.

Iwaizumi ran his fingertips lightly down the curve of Oikawa’s cheek, revelling in the softness of his skin. Last night he’d been so intent on showing Oikawa every conceivable pleasure – so scared Oikawa wouldn’t like it and change his mind – that he’d not allowed himself to be fully immersed in the experience, not until the very end. Not that he regretted it; he knew he’d shown Oikawa the best time of his damn life and there was no way he wouldn’t be coming back for more. Anticipation burned in Iwaizumi’s chest.

Still, he was glad for this stillness, for this opportunity catalogue the fine features of Oikawa’s face. Sure, he’d looked at Oikawa’s face countless times, was more familiar with it than his own, but it was different now.

Now this wasn’t just the face of his childhood friend, or of his best friend, or even of his long-term volleyball partner. Now this was the face of his lover.

Iwaizumi’s exhaled slowly at that thought. _Lover_. Yeah. Yeah, he could get used to that. Especially if it entailed nights like the last one and mornings like this one.

Even now he felt the urge to wake Oikawa up and go again. Last night had been both too much and not enough.

Too much in the way Iwaizumi had hardly been able to believe it had happened at all, that he’d finally gotten to touch and taste Oikawa like he’d fantasised for so long, that he’d finally gotten to know what it felt like to sink inside Oikawa’s depths, to move with him, in him, their bodies as one.

And it was not enough in the way that Iwaizumi had only scratched the surface of all the things he wanted to do with Oikawa, to Oikawa. And knowing Oikawa like he did, he knew Oikawa would quickly be making his own list of things he wanted to try with, to do to Iwaizumi. He’d probably started already, would probably wake up and say next time he was going to take the lead.

And Iwaizumi would let him, because it was Oikawa and Iwaizumi had never been able to deny him. Had never wanted to.

The mere thought of it turned his usual morning wood into something more, something decidedly inconvenient. Because while he was good to go again at any time, Oikawa would still be sore from the previous night’s activities. Besides, even if they messed around in other ways he didn’t want to come as fast as he had last night, because next time he planned to savour it, to explore every inch of Oikawa with his lips and hands and tongue and teeth.

So it was with great reluctance but great necessity that he extricated himself from Oikawa’s grasp, careful not to wake him, and headed to the bathroom.

He’d tried to be a quick as possible so he could get back into the bed before Oikawa woke up, but when he emerged Oikawa was slowly blinking his eyes open and stretched out like a cat. He was obviously unaware that Iwaizumi was watching him, because he swiped at the drool on his chin and frowned at it before wiping it on the sheets beside him. On Iwaizumi’s side.

Iwaizumi started laughing. He couldn’t help himself. If only Oikawa’s multitude of fangirls could see him now, dried drool on his chin, eyes swollen and red from his crying session and dehydration, hair sticking up every which way.

Iwaizumi thought he’d never looked so beautiful.

Oikawa looked up guilty as he heard Iwaizumi’s laughter, but quickly turned the expression into an annoyed pout. “Iwa-chan, where were you?” he whined. “I woke up and you weren’t here.”

Iwaizumi walked over to Oikawa with his towel around his hips, amazed at the way Oikawa stared at his body like he wanted to devour it. Iwaizumi had _never_ imagined Oikawa would _ever_ look at him that way. But he could definitely get used to it.

“I had to shower.” And jerk off. But Iwaizumi didn’t mention that part as he discarded the towel and slid back into the bed. Oikawa immediately latched himself onto Iwaizumi, raising Iwaizumi’s arm up himself to duck under it when Iwaizumi didn’t do it fast enough.

“I wanted to wake up with you,” Oikawa said in a small voice.

Iwaizumi kissed the top of his head. “Sorry, but I really had to shower. I had your drool all over me. It was gross.”

Oikawa swatted at his chest. “Don’t lie, Iwa-chan. I know for a fact that my lips didn’t go below your neckline. Something which I will be remedying in the future.”

Iwaizumi ignored the heat that flared in the pit of his stomach at that last line. “It happened when you were sleeping. I _know_ I’ve told you what a gross sleeper you are.”

Oikawa swatted him harder. “I am not capable of looking or being gross, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi huffed out an amused laugh. “Maybe you should go look in a mirror and get back to me on that one.”

“Mean! If I shower, will you stop being mean to me?”

“Probably not, but it couldn’t hurt to try.”

Oikawa rubbed his face against Iwaizumi’s chest. “Iwa-chan, can I borrow your toothbrush? I didn’t bring my toiletries with me. I supposed I’ll have to use your cheap shampoo as well. _And_ you don’t have conditioner, you heathen.”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes at Oikawa’s theatrics. “Yes to the shampoo, no to the toothbrush. That’s disgusting. It’s been in my mouth.”

Oikawa sat up and glared down at Iwaizumi. “Need I remind you that just last night you had my _dick_ and my _asshole_ in your mouth?”

Iwaizumi looked at up Oikawa serenely. “Exactly why you shouldn’t want to use my toothbrush.”

Oikawa considered that for a moment. Iwaizumi knew he’d reached his conclusion when he wrinkled his nose in distaste. “Guess I’ll be using my finger then.”

“I do have a spare toothbrush under the sink,” Iwaizumi provided helpfully, figuring that not telling Oikawa about it was just a little too mean. Besides, he wanted to be able to kiss Oikawa and not worry about how unclean his mouth was. “The packet should be unopened.”

Oikawa narrowed his eyes at him. “And why didn’t you tell me this before?”

Iwaizumi put his arms behind his head and grinned up at him unapologetically. “You didn’t ask.”

“And you claim _I_ have the worst personality,” Oikawa said archly before climbing out of the bed completely naked with far more grace and far less embarrassment than he had any right to possess in that situation.

Iwaizumi watched, highly amused as Oikawa walked to the bathroom purposefully swaying his hips like he knew Iwaizumi was watching. Because why the hell wouldn’t he be.

A laugh escaped Iwaizumi’s lips when Oikawa shut the door firmly, pointedly. Oikawa was _such_ a drama queen, though Iwaizumi knew Oikawa amped it up for his benefit, because it made him laugh. And Oikawa had always liked to make Iwaizumi laugh. He’d claimed it was because he was worried Iwaizumi would get premature wrinkles from scowling all the time, but it was really because he liked to see Iwaizumi happy.

Iwaizumi shook his head in disbelief at the two of them. How they in hell had they not done this sooner? Now that he knew what he knew, all the ways Oikawa had showed him he loved him over the years were excruciatingly clear.

He was the most loyal person Iwaizumi knew – to this day he would refuse to ever say, probably ever _think_ , that Iwaizumi had not been a good enough ace to beat Ushiwaka. Despite knowing now that the side with the strongest team and not the strongest individual would win, Oikawa still shouldered a lot of the responsibility for all those losses. Unnecessarily so, but Oikawa would rather do that than even think for a second that maybe if he’d had a stronger all round team – and a stronger ace – they would have won. Even though every player at Aoba Johsai had known Oikawa was leagues above them in terms of skill and ability. And no one knew that more than Iwaizumi.

Which was why he’d chosen to go to a different university to Oikawa, despite the decision being the hardest one he’d ever made in his life. Because he’d known Oikawa’s skill could only truly flourish when his unwavering loyalty to Iwaizumi was no longer an issue, when his ‘perfect trust’ with him was no longer a weakness. Their perfect trust had mostly been a strength in high school, but university volleyball was a different beast altogether.

The only thing that worried Iwaizumi about the distance was that he was no longer there to make sure Oikawa was taking care of himself properly. Sure, Oikawa had to learn to do that on his own at some point, but a large part of Iwaizumi would always worry. Especially since Oikawa was the type of idiot to never want to burden anyone else with his problems, would shoulder them all - and everyone else’s too - until he broke.

Maybe Iwaizumi would just give Oikawa’s mail address to Kuroo and get him to keep Oikawa honest about how hard he was working. The man had a talent for pestering people into doing what he wanted. And Kuroo had seemed to _really_ get on Oikawa’s nerves – every last one of them. Iwaizumi figured that was just what happened when two people too similar in too many ways collided.

Iwaizumi finally heard the shower switch off and worried about the state of his heating and water bills in the future if Oikawa was going to be staying there more often. Because of course he would be – Oikawa lived in the sports dorms at his university. _And_ his roommate was Bokuto of all people, who would probably just want to join in if Oikawa told him to not disturb them some weekends.

Oikawa opened the door to the bathroom, one towel around his waist and another around his hair. Looked like Iwaizumi was also going to have to worry about how much water he used in his washing if Oikawa insisted on using two towels every single time he showered.

“Iwa-chan, where’s your hairdryer?”

“Why would I have one of those?” Iwaizumi replied rhetorically, because really, what would a guy with short hair possibly do with a hairdryer?

Oikawa raised a condescending eyebrow at him. “With that hair? Why wouldn’t you.”

Iwaizumi shrugged, unconcerned. “Either way, no hairdryer for you. I guess you’ll just have to look like us mere mortals today. And just think, when you catch the train home later you’ll also be wearing your glasses.” Iwaizumi’s lips curled upwards at the sight of Oikawa’s horror…and he wasn’t even done yet. “And you’ll have to wear some of my baggiest, most casual clothes – like sweatpants and a hoodie – because there’s no way you can wear your clothes from last again. And since you’re _so_ much taller than me, my nice clothes won’t fit you.”

Iwaizumi didn’t think he’d ever seen Oikawa look so horrified before. It was great. “Then I’ll also be borrowing a paper bag because I’d rather people think I was weird than unattractive.”

Oikawa was _already_ weird, even without the paper bag. Still… “Want to start wearing it now? I can only think that it’d be an improvement.”

“I don’t want to hear that from someone who doesn’t even have _conditioner_ ,” Oikawa shot back.

Iwaizumi laughed loudly. “Will you ever let that go?”

“No. Never,” Oikawa promised darkly before disappearing into the bathroom once more.

Iwaizumi smiled as he closed his eyes, drifting off into a light slumber in the time it took for Oikawa to style his hair to his satisfaction – which was no small amount of time. He didn’t quite know how long he dozed for, but he sure as hell knew when he woke up.

“Iwa-chaaaaaaaan!” Oikawa yelled as he bounded across the room and jumped on Iwaizumi.

“ _Oof_!” Iwaizumi exclaimed as Oikawa’s not-inconsiderable weight landed on top of him. “What do you think you’re doing, dumbass!”

Oikawa rolled off him and grinned at Iwaizumi from his back. “Waking you up. And punishing you for being mean to me.”

Iwaizumi narrowed his eyes at Oikawa suspiciously. “Or maybe you just wanted to get back into the bed before I noticed that you’re wincing every time you move.”

Oikawa simply smiled at him brightly and held his hand up in a victory sign. “Not to worry, Iwa-chan! I feel as excellent as I look!”

“ _Oikawa_.”

“I’m fine, Iwa-chan, so just drop it, okay?” Oikawa said in a strained voice and turned around in the bed so his back was to Iwaizumi.

Iwaizumi sighed in frustration, wondering why on earth Oikawa was being so stubborn about something so small. And then it dawned on him. _This idiot,_ he thought exasperatedly.

Iwaizumi enveloped Oikawa in his arms from behind and kissed the back of his head. “If you tell me it hurts it doesn’t mean we won’t be doing what we did last night ever again. It just means we have to wait until it’s not sore anymore until we do. It just means I have to be more careful about how I handle you right now because I don’t want to hurt you. Okay?”

All the tension in Oikawa’s neck and shoulders released. “Oh,” Oikawa replied in a small voice.

“Yeah. _Oh_. Just trust me, okay? Now that I actually have you in my arms I won’t be letting go. Not for as long as you want to be here,” Iwaizumi promised, hoping and prayed that Oikawa would want to be there forever.

Oikawa sniffled and Iwaizumi didn’t need to look at him to know he was crying again. _Such_ a cry-baby. Iwaizumi hugged him tighter.

“Iwa-chan.”

“Yes?” Iwaizumi replied as he ran his nose through Oikawa’s hair, breathing in his scent.

“You said you loved me last night.” Oikawa mumbled, sounding somewhat unconvinced of what he was saying when really, it was Iwaizumi who should be unable to quite believe that _Oikawa_ was actually in love with _him_ , after all Iwaizumi’s months of thinking he never would be.

“I did,” Iwaizumi replied assuredly, wanting Oikawa to hear in his tone that he meant it.

“You can’t take it back,” Oikawa warned him.

Iwaizumi smiled against his hair. “I don’t plan to.”

“Not ever?”

“Not ever.”

There was a long pause, and then… “Does that make you my boyfriend?”

Iwaizumi’s heart surged in his chest, but he tried to keep his voice even as he replied, “If you want me to be.”

“Do you want to be?”

“Of course,” Iwaizumi responded immediately, as if the very notion that he wouldn’t want that was ludicrous. Because it one hundred percent was.

“Guess you’re my boyfriend then,” Oikawa said lightly, but Iwaizumi heard the tremor in his voice.

“Guess so.” Iwaizumi couldn’t keep the tremor out of his voice either. “Oi, turn around.”

“Why?” Oikawa asked suspiciously.

“Because I want to kiss you.”

Oikawa sniffed loudly. “No. I’m all gross again.”

Iwaizumi snorted softly. “Like I care about that.”

“ _I_ care. I have an image to uphold, Iwa-chan.”

“Not with me, you don’t. Now turn around.”

“Iwa-chan…” Oikawa whined.

“Tooru…” Iwaizumi whined back, figured dropping the first name would work. It did – Oikawa turned around. And Oikawa had been right – he _did_ look gross. Iwaizumi had never loved him more.

He wiped the tears and snot from Oikawa’s face with the sheet as Oikawa continued to sniffle and refuse to meet Iwaizumi’s gaze. Then he leaned forward and kissed Oikawa’s forehead. Then his nose. Then his eyelids. Then his lips.

Oikawa sighed into the kisses and they traded them back and forth, just basking in the feel of it, in the feel of them together.

And Iwaizumi basked in the feel of Oikawa Tooru. Childhood friend. Best friend. Boyfriend.

Iwaizumi smiled so wide his face hurt.

“Why are you smiling like that, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa asked, frowning at him. “You look weird.”

Iwaizumi laughed and kissed his frown away. “One, you can’t talk to me about looking weird.” He kissed the resultant scowl off Oikawa’s lips as well. “Two, I was just wondering what the date is today.”

Oikawa’s brows creased in confusion, so Iwaizumi kissed that spot too. “Why?”

“Because on this date next year, it will be our first anniversary.”

Oikawa’s mouth opened into an o-shape of surprise. “And what about the year after that?”

“That year too,” Iwaizumi assured him. “And all the ones after that.”

Oikawa smiled slyly. “And what if Japan legalises same-sex marriage and we get married?”

Iwaizumi chuckled at his antics. “Then we’d just have two anniversaries to celebrate.”

“And maybe we should have one for the day we first met when we were five,” Oikawa continued cheekily.

“I guess we _could_ break out a calendar and figure out what date the first day of elementary school fell on that year,” Iwaizumi agreed, grinning wide. “But _you’d_ have to pay for dinner for that one, to make up for kicking the soccer ball into my head that first recess.”

Oikawa looked outraged. “That is _not_ how it happened.”

“It _totally_ is,” Iwaizumi disputed. “Then when I told you I was going to tell on you to the teacher, you said it wasn’t _your_ fault I was too stupid to move my ugly head out of the way in time.”

Oikawa smiled. “That _does_ sound like me. But I’m pretty sure you hit me after I said that and made me cry, so I think we’re even.”

Iwaizumi scoffed. “Please, that was just because you cried over everything. I barely grazed you.”

“Well that didn’t prevent our mothers being called into the school because teacher said we were fighting.” Oikawa continued, and Iwaizumi remembered glaring at Oikawa as their mothers had talked inside the principal’s office, thinking he was the most ridiculous person he'd ever met. That hadn't changed much.

“So they organised a playdate to force us to get along,” Iwaizumi added. “Then when you came over to my house we went outside to catch bugs but you kept crying because you couldn’t catch one.”

“So you gave me yours, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa sighed wistfully. Iwaizumi hadn’t known Oikawa remembered that at all, that it was significant to him in any way. Well, judging by that tone, apparently it was.

“Only to get you to shut up in case our mothers thought I’d hit you. But if I’d known then that giving you that bug would make you stick to me like fucking industrial strength super glue for the next almost fifteen years, I might have just let you keep crying,” Iwaizumi lied, feeling embarrassed by the truth that even back then – that even when he’d thought he’d hated the guy - he hadn’t been able to handle Oikawa’s tears, would have done anything to make them stop.

“No, you wouldn’t have,” Oikawa said confidently.

“Probably not, no,” Iwaizumi conceded with a small smile.

Oikawa gasped. “But Iwa-chan, shouldn’t _you_ being buying _me_ dinner then? Because maybe if I hadn’t kicked that soccer ball into your head nothing else would have happened.”

Iwaizumi raised his eyebrows in faux disbelief and joked, “What, so you want me to thank you for the worst thing that’s ever happened to me?”

“You can’t say that anymore, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa’s chided, “because now I know it’s a lie.”

“It was _always_ a lie.” Surely Oikawa must know that? Must know that Iwaizumi would _never_ think that. But Iwaizumi never wanted Oikawa to question the way he felt about him ever again, so he took Oikawa’s face in his hands and look at him intently.

“Now listen up because I might only say this once, depending on how insufferable you become after hearing it.” Iwaizumi inhaled a deep breath. “I love you, Oikawa Tooru, and you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Don’t ever doubt that.”

Tears streamed down Oikawa’s face and for once, he let them flow. “Only if you promise the same when I say that I love you, Iwaizumi Hajime, and that I don’t ever want to know what my life would have been like without you in it, because you are the most important part of it – always will be.”

Iwaizumi blinked the tears from his eyes, not because he didn’t want to cry but because he just wanted to look at Oikawa’s face, just wanted to stare at him. Because now he knew that when he was looking at Oikawa, he was looking at his future. Their future. Together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I didn't even write everything I'd originally planned to, but this fic was bloody long enough already!
> 
> However, depending on the response to this I might write those ideas out as part of a series of oneshots, so let me know if that's something anyone would be interested in! 
> 
> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are always highly appreciated :)


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